


by the light of another moon

by Butterfly



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: F/F, Hallmark movie inspired in this case means:, Kissing in the Snow, M/M, Minor Alice Quinn/Kady Orloff-Diaz, Minor Eliot Waugh/Mike McCormick, Minor Margo Hanson/Josh Hoberman, Minor William "Penny" Adiyodi/Julia Wicker, Past Quentin Coldwater/Poppy Kline, but we do have: house-swap! across worlds, discovering new possibilities for yourself, the other characters mostly all show up too but in more minor roles, there is very little Actual Holiday Content in this fic tho tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:28:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 49,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22025575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butterfly/pseuds/Butterfly
Summary: Quentin Coldwater has given up on love, focusing on his daughter and his family, but when his Fillorian foster sister, Fen, does a holiday home swap with a magician from Earth named Eliot Waugh, Quentin begins to realize romance might not be over for him after all. Meanwhile, on Earth, as Fen spends more time with Eliot's best friend, Margo Hanson, Fen has some realizations about her own heart and her dreams for the future.
Relationships: Fen/Margo Hanson, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 18
Kudos: 166
Collections: Magicians Hallmark Holiday Extravaganza





	by the light of another moon

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [[art] by the light of another moon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22009360) by [anniebibananie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anniebibananie/pseuds/anniebibananie). 



> Love and thanks to my beta, [PanBoleyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PanBoleyn/pseuds/PanBoleyn).
> 
> Love and thanks to my artist, [anniebiananie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anniebibananie/pseuds/anniebibananie). Please click on the inspired by link to check out her graphics and aesthetic pieces!
> 
> ETA: I forgot to say that the fic is based on the movie "Finding Christmas", and I only discovered after I'd claimed the prompt that it starred Tricia Helfer (a fantastic actress I've adored for years) and was sincerely quite sweet.

**Kilnsworth Creek, Fillory**

“Big as- big as a whole castle!” Jane exclaimed, her arms waving wildly in the air, making herself wobble. His daughter was off-balance again, probably due to her recent growth spurt.

The letter from her mother lay on the table in between them, already showing signs of wear and tear from how many times Jane had read it. Poppy had sent it to mark the occasion of Jane's recent birthday, praising their daughter on reaching the impressive age of nine, but it had only reached them yesterday, a full four months late. Jane hadn't been as disappointed as Quentin would have been at her age, but so far Jane showed few signs of inheriting the kind of perennial sadness and anxiety that had followed Quentin around like a shadow all his life.

Jane wobbled again, standing precariously on the seat of her chair. Quentin reached over and gently tugged on one of her copper-red braids. “Careful, pumpkin. Aunt Julia will fret if you get yourself hurt in her shop again.” Julia had never quite recovered from the time Jane had cracked her head on one of the table legs and gotten blood all over herself, the books, and Quentin's hands.

“Yes, daddy,” Jane said, and sighed heavily, the aggrieved noise of a child who was being horribly and unfairly inconvenienced by life. She dropped down and sat properly in her chair, her eyes going back to Poppy's letter. “Oh, hey hey. When mama comes home for Umbermoon, will she bring an extra present? For my birthday? Last time she came, I asked her for a scale and she pinky-swore she would bring one but- um.” Jane's sunshine smile dimmed slightly.

Quentin was never really sure how honest he should be about Poppy's intentions when he was talking to Jane. He didn't want to speak poorly of her in front of their daughter, but the simple truth was that Poppy was almost certainly going to miss this Umbermoon, just like she'd missed last year's. Poppy had always found the idea of a child more appealing than the daily reality of one.

Much like she'd found the idea of Quentin more appealing than the reality, he supposed. The only thing in life that ever truly lived up to Poppy's expectations were the dragons she chased across the universe.

Luckily, he was given a temporary reprieve when Julia popped out of the back room, a stack of books piled in her arms. Jane, always thrilled to re-start a story for a new audience, immediately claimed Julia's attention. Quentin freed the pile of books from her and started sorting them for shelving while Jane chattered excitedly to Julia, who had long since mastered the art of 'Oooh'ing and 'Ahhh'ing at the most appropriate moments in Jane's monologues.

Jane's eyes sparkled as she talked, and the same brown shade that was so boring and dull when Quentin looked at his own eyes in the mirror always seemed so charming and adorable when he was looking at his daughter's.

Julia made concerned sounds over an impressive scab on Jane's knee as Jane transitioned from talking about her mother's letter to talking about playing with her friends. The little jumper that Quentin had sewn for Jane a few months back had acquired another rip earlier this afternoon, and the hems were starting to fray, too, from how she hurtled herself at every obstacle in life like she was gunning for a medal in recklessness. She loved horseplay and mock-fights with a fierceness that would have easily labeled her a tomboy back on Earth.

Another reason to love Fillory, where none of the locals found it odd for a girl to want to throw herself as roughly into playing as any boy, where it wasn't strange for her to collect scrapes from tree climbing and bruised knees from wading in forest streams, and where no one expected her to grow into a 'little lady'.

“All right, Jane-bug, we'd better head home,” Quentin said when he saw hints of strain showing around the corners of Julia's eyes. Jane's undivided focus could be a lot to deal with, even for someone used to it. “Aunt Fen is expecting us sooner or later.”

Jane pressed a hasty kiss against Julia's cheek – a habit she'd picked up sometime last summer, though Quentin wasn't sure where – and then screeched, loudly enough to carry to the back room, “Goodbye, Uncle Penny!”

After a moment, Penny stuck his head out of the doorway. “Practice your wards when you get home! I got at least half that conversation fast-tracked into my brain.”

Jane let out a heavy breath. Frowned. “Still not better than daddy?”

“Getting there,” Penny said. “But it's not like _that's_ a high bar.”

Quentin rolled his eyes, collected Jane's bag, and they left Julia's place, Poppy's letter clutched again in Jane's hand.

Going anywhere was never a simple process with Jane, who made friends as easily as she breathed and who wanted to know every update in everyone's life whenever she ran across them and was certain everyone wanted to hear all her latest news too.

It was something like living with a hurricane, frankly, and somehow managed to be better and more exhausting than anything had ever been for Quentin, back on Earth.

So, on the way home, Quentin learned all about Mellany's gout acting up again, that Whiskers was expecting a litter, and that Someone had Unexpectedly Proposed in a Very Romantic Way to an undisclosed person. That last bit of information came by way of Old Mum Hanorily, who believed firmly in gossiping with all her heart but who also believed, equally firmly, that _names_ should never be mentioned at any point because that would be, apparently, unsporting.

Kilnsworth Creek wasn't a big town, even by Fillory standards, at least that's what Penny always said. Penny's job with Whitespire took him all over the country, though he never stayed anywhere else for long, and his magic meant he was never far from home. Though Kilnsworth was small, it had everything Quentin needed, at least for now. When Jane got older, he suspected that she'd want to visit Earth, see where most of her family had been born. And it was possible she would even want to explore other worlds, the way her mother did. But, for now, she was content enough in Fillory and in Kilnsworth.

It was about a twenty-minute walk from Julia's home and shop to Quentin's little cottage. With Jane, that meant usually a journey that lasted about forty-five minutes, between the conversations she struck up and the other distractions she managed to find along the way.

For the last half-mile, she scrambled up onto the fence and skipped from post to post, still chattering away in bright tones. Quentin had put up the fence himself and knew it was as study and safe as possible but he was glad, anyway, to have the safety net of his magic, just in case.

When they got to the cottage, Fen was already up on the roof, starting to hang baskets of the traditional winter-blossoming flowers that marked the beginning of the Umbermoon season. Jane hopped off the fence and cupped her hands around her mouth, bellowing, “Aunt Fen! We're here! Can I help you hang flowers! Please!”

Fen sat down at the edge of the roof, her dark hair in long waves today. “I'd love the help, Janie. The ladder's propped up on the side of the cottage, if you want to use that.”

“Or I could give you a boost,” Quentin suggested. Telekinesis wasn't as easy for him as other things, but he could manage it on Jane, still, who was wiry and didn't weigh too much.

“Daddy's magic,” Jane said, decisively, so Quentin concentrated and did the correct hand gestures and lifted Jane up high enough that Fen could grab her by the waist and pull her onto the roof. He also brought up the rest of the hanging plants – one at a time, so that Fen and Jane could pluck them out of the air easily, and also to put less strain on himself.

“You want me to come up and help...?” Quentin asked.

“I want you to make us dinner,” Fen said, cheerfully. “I brought some food, fresh from Patier's farm. It's on the table.”

Quentin sighed a little – even after all these years, Fen never quite trusted him to feed himself. Jane, yes of course, but himself... well, he supposed it was sweet that she worried. And it wasn't like she didn't have reason.

He went into the cottage, picking up a few of Jane's toys as he went down the entry hallway, placing them in a neat row on the table next to the archway into the dining room and kitchen area. Fen's groceries – not that she would ever use _that_ word – were sitting in two large baskets on the table. He could still see dirt on the root vegetables, so he rolled up his sleeves and cleaned everything off first. The well pump he'd dug and built into the little closest off the kitchen was still in good repair and the magic enhancing didn't need refreshing yet, but he checked it anyway before getting to work at bringing up water for washing and cooking. He kept half an ear out in case of trouble on the roof, but Fen would die before letting Jane get hurt, so he didn't worry too much.

One of the interesting differences between Earth and Fillory was that he ate a lot less meat here. Usually only during certain seasons, or if an animal stopped producing eggs or whatever else it was the farmer kept them for. So, eggs and vegetables and grains, mostly. Fruits for dessert. It had taken him, Julia, and Penny a few years to get used to it – Penny had even reluctantly hopped back to Earth a few times when they were younger to get a sugary treat for them to share – but, of course, Jane had never known anything else.

Quentin set some of the food aside in the pantry for later, but made enough for dinner that Fen would be able to take a portion home with her. She'd liked the idea of 'doggie bags' when he'd told her about them and the flat stone that he'd spelled to heat for her on command let her re-heat things if she wanted to, though he couldn't make it hot enough to do any actual cooking.

Fen and Jane came clattering into the cottage when he was a few minutes from finishing up – Jane riding on Fen's back, arms looped around her neck.

“All done?” he asked. Fen set Jane down, came over and started to set the table for dinner.

“It's beautiful!” Jane said, excitedly. “There's twice as many flowers this year as last year! And they're all so pretty!”

“Mari and Shona sent their best wishes,” Fen said, with a bit of a sly smile. “They thought your roof looked too bare last Umbermoon, so they added some more for me to bring. So many I had to bring the cart!”

Quentin half-suspected that Mari and Shona, like several other people in town, didn't really think he was up to the job of raising Jane by himself. They remembered what he and the others had been like when they'd arrived in Fillory, young teenagers with tattered clothes, running from their past lives. First impressions had a habit of sticking.

But the flowers made Jane smile and that mattered more.

“You may not know this,” Fen told him, as they sat down to dinner. “-but a well-decorated house is quite a draw for potential romance during Umbermoon. It's said the scent of the flowers brings love to your doorstep.”

Quentin eyed her suspiciously, as Fen had – more than once – made up an “old Fillorian tradition” out of whole cloth in order to convince him to do something.

“Romance is gross,” Jane announced loudly, voice full of conviction.

“Maybe sometimes,” Quentin said. “Have you shared that opinion with Aunt Julia and Uncle Penny?”

“They're not a romance. They're _married_ ,” Jane said, very seriously. “Married means that even when you leave, you always come back.”

Quentin has never had the gift of foresight, but he can see a possible immediate future laid out before him very clearly, involving an awkward conversation about divorce and his ex-wife and the reasons why Poppy so rarely came back to Fillory. The letter had, perhaps, affected Jane more than he'd realized.

“Well, Penny does have a special gift to help him with that,” he said, then, flailing for a topic change. “Did you get any new pages done today, Fen?”

That, thankfully, changed the trajectory of the conversation entirely, as Fen lit up and started talking about the new story she was working on, which drew Jane's attention instantly. Fen's stories were only loosely based on Jane's personality, but she absolutely adored all the scrapes and troubles that Fen's “Janie Waters” got into and how cleverly she got out of them again.

After dinner and, more importantly, after Jane was tucked away into bed, Fen said, “Do you think there's any chance Poppy will come for Umbermoon this year?”

“God, no,” Quentin said. “The last time she was here, she called Kilnsworth 'the dullest place in existence populated by the most annoying people in the multiverse'. Luckily, not where Jane could hear.”

Fen made that sour little face, the disapproving one, and she'd never actually _said_ 'I told you so' about everything that had happened with Poppy but, well, she'd never needed to, had she?

“Have you given any more thought to finding someone-” Fen huffed when he glared at her. “I'm not saying Jane needs another parent. Just that- you love so completely, Quentin. It's not wrong to want that in your life again.”

“It's not like you're any better,” Quentin countered, trying to sound reasonable and not defensive. Probably failing. “Have you dated at all since you and Rafe broke things off?”

“That... is not the point,” Fen said, with great dignity. “Anyway, he'll come around, you know. He always has before. We're destined for each other, probably, after all.”

On this point, Fen was unlikely to be swayed, so Quentin dropped the issue.

It wasn't until she was at the door to leave that Fen paused and said, “Quentin, I mean it. What could it hurt to open your heart again? Consider the possibilities, at least. You don't need to say 'yes' just... think about it.”

“Only if you do too,” Quentin said firmly, pushing her out the door and closing it with a click.

He adored Fen, he really did, and he would always be grateful to her and her parents for taking him and the others into their home and hearts, but they did seem to think that it meant they needed to have an opinion about every important choice in his life.

No, Quentin had learned his lesson with Poppy. He was no good at romance. He wasn't always sure if he was a good father, either, but Jane seemed happy and healthy enough, so he was probably doing okay. He had his daughter, he had friends as close to him as he imagined any blood siblings could ever be, and he had the kindest foster parents imaginable. It was so much more than he'd ever have dreamed he would have, back when he was a lonely, depressed teenager with only Julia as a real friend.

It was more than enough.

**New York City, Earth**

Eliot clasped his hands together as he watched the last decorations being placed near the tall evergreen at the end of the great hall. It was just as spectacular a sight as he had hoped. The room as a whole was an inclusive winter wonderland that married taste and enthusiasm perfectly.

'Perfect' really was the mood of the day. There was snow falling outside, and the huge windows in the hallway let in the glorious natural lighting, while the magic coating them projected boring stone walls back out to the mundanes walking the New York streets out in the cold. Margo had finally put the finishing touches on that idea she'd stolen from _Harry Potter_ , which meant there was a lovely drift of snowflakes appearing to fall from the illusion of the sky above them and then fading out about a foot over Eliot's head.

It had taken time and more effort than Eliot had previously considered himself capable of, but he and Margo would finally have this place free and clear once Eliot handed the final repayment check over to Henry Fogg at the party in... just under two hours now.

“It looks amazing, boss!” Todd trilled from beside him. Eliot, with great effort, refrained from rolling his eyes.

“I'm not your boss,” he said. Again. “You aren't my assistant.”

“I don't mind staying an intern a while longer,” Todd said, then his attention was caught by movement on the other side of the room. “Ooh! The pastries are being set out. I'll make sure they do it right!”

“You aren't an intern, either,” Eliot called out, but Todd wasn't listening. Eliot sighed. “You are literally a paying guest, please stop giving my actual employees orders.”

“Talking to yourself is a bad habit,” Margo said, coming up from behind Eliot and patting him on the arm. “And when you talk to Todd, you're _always_ just talking to yourself. Let him run his little errands. It keeps him busy.”

Honestly, the day was going so well that not even Todd could ruin it.

“I suppose he can't wreck the pastry display too badly,” Eliot said, reaching back and reeling Margo into his arms, pressing a fond kiss against her temple. “Now, dearest Bambi, how does it feel to be young, beautiful, and successful beyond our wildest dreams?”

“Better than sex,” she said immediately, then frowned. “Not that I have much recent practical experience in _that_ department.”

Eliot knew that frown, had become intimately familiar with the curves and lines of it over the last year.

“Hoberman cancelled on the party tonight?”

“I shouldn't even be surprised,” Margo said, and she was desperately trying to sound like she didn't care. “I mean, of course if they offered him a month-long holiday contract in Paris, he'd take it. Of course, he would. Ugh, El. He asked me to come stay with him in his suite and sounded so stupidly hurt when I said 'no'.”

“You could, at least for a little while,” Eliot said. “I can handle things here for a few days if you wanted to go visit.”

“The last time I saw him on his world tour, we did more fighting than fucking,” Margo said, sounding resigned, which was worse than angry. “I swear, we used to know each other so well. He almost knew me better than you do. Or at least I thought he did. But he doesn't- he doesn't understand how important this place is to me.”

The Flying Forest had started as a dream during their Brakebills days, something to chat about lazily while they ignored their homework and flirted with cute fellow students. Margo had taken off with Hoberman for half a year after graduation and it was only when she'd come back to New York that they'd started to talk about it more seriously. The Flying Forest wasn't just a retreat for Magicians – it was a haven for people who felt like they didn't have a family, the way Eliot and Margo had felt when they'd first come to Brakebills, before they befriended each other.

“You know my feelings on the matter,” Eliot said, rather than re-hashing the whole Hoberman mess all over again.

“Yeah, yeah, too straight to be interesting, I know,” Margo said with a fond roll of her eyes. “But he used to make me so happy, El. I keep hoping we'll get that feeling back, I guess.”

Eliot rested his chin on her head, swayed as he kept hugging her. “He's not the only fish in the sea, Bambi.”

“But he was _my_ fish,” she said, a touch forlorn. “Ugh, enough about my disappointing love life. How about yours – Mike still coming tonight?”

“Classy way to frame the question,” Eliot said, dryly, but just as it was no secret that he wasn't Josh's biggest fan, Margo had never hidden the fact that she didn't think Mike was good enough for Eliot. “Yes, we're still desperately in love and, yes, he's planning on coming tonight.”

“And, yes?” Margo prompted, turning around in his arms and looking at him expectantly.

“Yeah, I picked it up today,” Eliot confirmed. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out the jewelry box, snapping it open so that Margo could admire the ring nestled inside. Chased silver, with twisting lines swirled all around the outside. Eliot had designed it himself. “I'm planning on proposing Christmas Eve.”

“Why wait?” Margo asked. She shut the box again and handed it back to him. “I mean, you've got the ring. You'll have him here. Everyone will be in a celebrating mood anyway. Why not ask tonight?”

“Hmm.” Eliot slid the box into his pocket. “I suppose I could.”

And that was one of the things about Margo that he loved so much – she might not care for Mike herself, but she knew how happy he made Eliot, so she pushed him to reach for that happiness.

Three hours later, the party was in full swing, and Margo and Eliot were at the center of it all – checking on their guests, making sure the food didn't run low, and generally basking in the success of their dream. Mike hadn't arrived yet, but Eliot wasn't worried. Mike had said that he would come, so that meant he would.

“It's good to see the two of you thriving,” Henry Fogg said, pocketing the check. “I knew you would be a sound investment once you figured out how to apply your talents.”

“Thank you,” Eliot said, sincerely. None of this would have been possible without Henry bankrolling them at the beginning or – going further back – without Henry assigning Eliot and Margo as partners during their first-year Trials when he'd been their Dean at Brakebills. “Have you had a chance to settle into your rooms yet?”

“Oh, yes. They're beautifully appointed.” Henry smiled kindly. “The pair of you always did have wonderful taste. I believe my favorite touch is the matching scent. Subtle but creating a perfect ambiance.”

Ah, that had been a tricky bit of spellwork, since Eliot had needed to add several clauses to the Circumstances in order to account for people potentially having allergic or sensory reactions to specific smells. It had taken him almost two months to perfect it. Eliot beamed with happiness as he thanked Henry again.

Then, over Henry's shoulder, he saw Mike arrive.

At first, he just felt pleased, a warm glow in his heart as he headed towards his boyfriend but-

-but then he paused as he took in the details.

Mike wasn't dressed up for the party. He was still in jeans, with a casual jacket thrown over what looked like one of the shirts he wore for work. He hadn't even shaved.

So, Eliot was still smiling when he met Mike by the door, but there was an odd kernel of concern at the center of his chest. “My darling,” he said, as he leaned down and brushed a kiss over Mike's cheek. “Did work run late?”

“Huh? Oh, no.” Mike seemed distracted, looking around at the people – at the party – like he'd forgotten it would be happening. “Wow, you really went all out. How many of these people are staying here over the holidays?”

“We're completely booked,” Eliot said. Feeling puzzled, because Mike already knew that. Or he should. Eliot had certainly told him. “Mike, sweetheart, is everything all right?”

Mike took another glance around the room, let out a heavy breath, said, “You know, I've been thinking. We should take a break.”

“From the... party?” Eliot asked. But his pulse was starting to pick up and his chest was getting tight. “You just got here.” He reached out, took Mike's hands in his. “Let's get you something to eat, hmm?”

“Not from the party.” Mike tugged his hands out of Eliot's, looked him directly in the eyes for the first time since he'd arrived. There was a strange, unfamiliar look on his face. “From each other. I think we need to take a break from each other.”

“You're breaking up with me?” And Eliot's voice was much louder than he'd planned, drawing a kind of attention he did not want – _absolutely_ no, not here, not tonight, not when they were all supposed to be celebrating. “Um. Mike, let's talk in private, okay?”

Mike sighed, but when Eliot headed in the direction of his personal office, he followed.

Eliot closed the door behind them with shaking hands. He took a moment, willing himself to be calm, before turning around to face Mike. “You're breaking up with me?” His voice was more steady this time, though he wasn't able to keep it completely even.

“It's- you don't need to take it so hard,” Mike said, sticking his hands in his pockets, the way he always did when he felt uncomfortable. “It's just... we've been dating for a really long time. Longer than I've ever been with anyone.”

“Is that a _bad_ thing?” Eliot asked, blindsided and bewildered. “Is this about- did your parents not like me?”

He'd thought that they had. It had all seemed to go really well at the time – that was one of the reasons he'd felt comfortable putting down the money for the ring, at a time when cash was still in tight supply for him.

“Honestly, they haven't stopped talking about you,” Mike said, with a twist to his mouth. “They've been asking when you plan to make an honest man out of me, if you can believe _that_.”

“Which is ridiculous,” Eliot said, without inflection.

“I tried to tell them that!” And Mike got more animated now, rubbing a hand over his face. “My mom keeps telling me how sweet you are! And my dad- my dad was so impressed by what you told him about the retreat. Neither of them even listened when I told them how much of your time this place sucks up. They just kept talking about what a charmer you were, and how hard you must work to own a successful business at your age.”

“And that's... bad.” It had been a while since Eliot'd felt this way but, right now, he really needed a drink. He made his way over to his locked cabinet, fumbled it open, poured himself two fingers of whiskey and downed it. “You're breaking up with me. Because your parents like me.”

It almost felt like something was fizzing and popping in his brain.

“I just think we need to take a break,” Mike said, stressing the words oddly, and his hand was on Eliot's arm, curling around his wrist. “Re-evaluate. Maybe check out some other options and make sure this feels right for both of us.”

“Other options?” Eliot blinked hard, until he was certain he wouldn't cry. “Do you have- do you have someone specific in mind?”

Mike shrugged, casually, which seemed like a yes.

“That sounds exactly like a break-up,” Eliot said.

“I don't know if it matters what we call it,” Mike said. He was still touching Eliot, his fingers stroking lightly along Eliot's shirtsleeve. It felt distinctly like a mixed message. “Honestly, Eliot, this place keeps you so busy, you'll hardly notice I'm not around as much.”

“Have you been feeling neglected?” Eliot asked. If _that_ were the problem, maybe Eliot could still fix things. “I could- I could take a break for a couple of days. We could spend some time together. Just us.”

Mike... hesitated, bit his lip like he was considering it. Then he shook his head. “I don't think that's long enough to get this sorted out between us.”

But there's a thread of something there, in his voice. It was enough to make Eliot reach down, yank the box out of his pocket, press it into Mike's hands. “We can have all the time we need. If you want.”

Mike closed his fingers around the jewelry box. He didn't open it.

“The thing is, you didn't even notice I was unhappy,” Mike said. He reached up, straightened Eliot's collar. “This kind of proves that, doesn't it?”

“There's just been so much to do,” Eliot said, and he was scrambling and he knew it, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. “Now that I know how you've been feeling, I can work out how to make it better. Take care of things.”

“Maybe I don't need someone to take care of things. To take care of me,” Mike said, and his tone felt like a slap in the face. “I don't want to be _managed_ , Eliot. I just want to be loved.”

“I do love you,” Eliot said. Helplessly.

“You love having a boyfriend to show off in front of and impress,” Mike said. “I'm not sure it's the same thing.”

Eliot didn't know what to say to that. It wasn't- it wasn't true, but the words lodged in his heart and burrowed deep anyway. He must look- awful, because Mike softened slightly. Took a step towards him, went up on his toes and pressed a kiss against Eliot's cheek.

“Look, don't let this ruin your night, okay? I know you worked hard to earn all this,” Mike said. “Go back out and enjoy your party.”

And he left, just like that.

Eliot poured himself another drink, sat down at his desk.

Tried very very hard not to cry.

Failed miserably.

**Kilnsworth Creek, Fillory**

Fen hummed as she put together her toolkit for the day. Bandages and salves and the tiny metal tools that Quentin had so painstakingly created for her. She'd been pleased with her work last night – not just in preparing Quentin's cottage for Umbermoon but also for that little seed she'd planted about a new relationship. It had been over two years since Quentin had even _seen_ Poppy. Long past time to move on, find him someone new. Someone better, who wouldn't run off the second she got bored.

She slung her satchel around her neck, straightened it so it would hang easily, and headed off into town.

Her first patient was an easy one – Clyde had gotten something nasty jammed into his hoof the other day, puncturing deep enough to draw a well of blood, but it had been simple to remove and, when she changed the bandages today, was healing nicely.

“Just remember to keep your weight off it,” Fen said sternly, her neck straining a bit as she tilted her head back so she could meet his eyes. At least he had three other good legs, to compensate for the hurt one. “No dancing for you this Umbermoon!”

“I don't dance,” Clyde said, absently, stretching his leg this way and that. He took the sling from her and, with her help, carefully tied his leg safely back up, off the ground. “Hmm. Adequate.”

This was high praise from Clyde, who didn't work in medicine himself but, like most centaurs, had a few members of his family who had gone off to train as healers. Fen beamed at him.

“I'll swing by later today to check in,” she said, cheerfully. “Tell Moire hello for me.”

Clyde grunted.

Fen headed off to her next job, her heart thumping in her chest because- well, he might not even be there today. No point in getting her hopes up.

Abigail's house was probably more properly called a mansion. But it needed to be big, since it doubled as the village's workspace for all larger government concerns and for anyone who worked directly for Whitespire. Penny had an office here, though he rarely used it, and so did-

“Rafe, good morning!” Fen called out, leaning against the door to his room. He blinked at her.

“Oh. Fen. You're here about Abigail's cough?”

“Well, yes,” she admitted. “But I thought I'd drop in! Say hello!”

“Hello,” Rafe said. “I believe she's still upstairs in her private residence.”

He looked back down at his papers and started writing again. Fen waited a moment longer, to see if he would say anything else.

He didn't.

Reluctantly, she turned away and headed up the narrow staircase that led to Abigail's apartments. She rapped sharply on the door, called out, “Judge Abigail? It's Fen,” and then let herself in. Abigail's rooms were fancier and more expensively furnished than anyone else's in Kilnsworth Creek, most of her furniture having been brought with her from Whitespire, and Fen always worried that she would break something when she came up here.

Abigail was curled around one of her favorite perches and she did look a bit run down.

Fen went through a preliminary health check – eyes and ears and teeth – then started getting more detailed, talking over what Abigail had been feeling lately, only needing to ask Abigail to reword sentences once or twice. Fen's handle on Sloth had definitely been improving in the last few years, and she was almost fluent now.

Finally, she said, “I think my bjori tea should do the trick.” She rooted through her satchel, picked out a carefully-labeled bag of leaves. “I can put it in the kitchen.”

Abigail nodded her approval, then wrapped herself more tightly around her perch with a sigh.

Once the tea was in a helpful location, Fen debated with herself about whether or not she should stop by and try to talk to Rafe again on her way out. And maybe it was because she was thinking of Rafe already that she noticed it – one of his sweaters was casually hanging off the back of a chair in the kitchen.

She wandered out of the apartments, feeling a bit dazed. She was leaping to conclusions, probably?

Still, she found herself at Rafe's doorway again.

“Hi,” she said.

“Ah, hello,” Rafe said. “Were you able to help Abigail?”

Did he say her name differently than before? Was it more fond?

“You left your sweater upstairs,” is what Fen said, awkward and abrupt.

Rafe sighed, “Oh, dear, that was careless of me. I was hoping you wouldn't find out this way.”

“Find out,” she repeated.

“I've tried to tell you but-”

“How long have-”

They both stopped talking at once, stared at each other uncomfortably. Rafe's mouth twitched a little.

“I've been seeing Abigail for a few months now,” he said. After a moment.

“Months?” Fen was going to throw up. _Months_?

“Fen.” Rafe's voice was very soft, and almost unbearably kind. “It's been almost a year since we broke up. It was inevitable one of us would move on eventually.”

Fen nodded, but she wanted to argue. They'd been together, on and off, since even before the Earth trio had appeared in their lives. How could it just- just be over? She'd thought- she'd thought she would have another chance.

“Is it serious?” she asked.

He lifted up his right hand, and there was an unfamiliar golden ring around the first finger. An engagement. Already?

But, no, not 'already'. It had been months.

“I should. Finish my rounds,” Fen said, stiltedly.

She left quickly, but she didn't head to her next patient. Instead, she ran towards a small building on the way out of town, the little workspace that her father had built for Quentin all those years ago.

Quentin didn't look up as she burst into the room, his hands shifting and twisting in the gentle motions of his magic. A pocket watch hovered in the air in front of him, the metal gears inside bending in a way that seemed almost liquid. Fen sat down, watched him work. Penny's magic was sharp, Julia's was forceful, but Quentin's... Quentin's was soothing, like a good cup of tea during a sunrise.

Quentin sighed as he finished his mending, reached out and plucked the watch from the air. Then he blinked, noticed Fen was there. She gave him a brave smile.

“Rafe is getting married,” she said. After another moment she added, “To Abigail.”

Quentin took that in, nodded thoughtfully. “Huh. Yeah, I can see that.”

“You can see that?” Fen said, her voice raising in pitch slightly. “I didn't see it! I had no idea!”

“Fen... you two haven't been together for a while.”

“I feel so stupid,” she said, and that got him away from his workbench and over to give her a tight, reassuring hug. “Am I stupid, Quentin?”

“No,” he said, firmly. “You just- you knew what you wanted and you maybe couldn't see past that to what was happening in front of you?”

“Abigail is the Kilnsworth Creek judge,” Fen said, disconsolately. “Their wedding... it'll be enormous. The whole _town_ will get involved.”

Quentin stared at her for a long moment.

“You need a distraction. A vacation,” he said, the words coming fast, tumbling out of his mouth. “Get out of town.” Then he snapped his fingers. “You should go to Earth.”

“Why would I go to Earth?” Fen asked.

“To get your stories published,” Quentin said and- and this was a definite start of one of Quentin's moods, where he got incredibly enthusiastic about an idea and dragged everyone else along with him whether they liked it or not. “No, Fen, think about it. You go to Earth. Talk to some publishers. Get the Janie Waters stories out there and read by a lot of people. Make some money. Earth money. That way-” He hesitated for a moment before continuing, “When Jane gets older, she's gonna want to visit Earth. Having money would help.”

“I don't know,” Fen groused. “You hate Earth. Julia hates Earth. Penny hates Earth. Why should I go somewhere you all hated so much that you ran away from it?”

“In fairness, Penny hates everything,” Quentin said. 'But, uh. The reasons why I left- they aren't. They don't apply to you. You aren't-” Quentin's mouth twisted into a frown. “-you'd be fine, I think.”

“Okay, maybe I'll go after Umbermoon,” Fen conceded. “I mean, first I have to figure out where I'd go. It's a big place, right?”

“Very big, but... actually.” And Quentin was tugging at her arm and there was no point in arguing with him when he got like this, so she let him carry her along with him.

“Where exactly are we going, Quentin?”

“We're going to talk to Penny,” Quentin said. “He got that offer a few years ago, remember? To go to that school?”

“Brokebails.”

“Brakebills,” Quentin corrected, and he was probably right. He was good at remembering things like that. “The lady who told him about it – Victoria – she said the door was always open, if he needed it. You know Penny, he'd rather cut his own hands off than go back to Earth for longer than a few minutes, but maybe she'd be able to find you a safe place to stay while you check out book publishers.”

Honestly, the more Fen thought about it, the more appealing the idea was. Going to Earth meant seeing where her closest friends had come from, and maybe getting a chance to understand what had driven them to leave it behind.

Plus, she would finally get to see a 'movie'. That seemed exciting.

**New York City, Earth**

Margo stood outside Eliot's office, listening carefully.

She was, not to put too fine a point on it, really fucking worried.

After Mike had left last night, only a few minutes after he'd arrived in the first place, she'd gone to Eliot's office and found him halfway through a bottle of whiskey, all by himself. Mike – the dirty worthless ratbag he was – had broken up with Eliot two fucking weeks before Christmas. Like a douche.

Eliot had been ready to _propose_ to the snotweasel, and then he pulled _this_ bullshit out.

Still, Margo prided herself on being able to solve problems, especially El's problems, and she was not going in there empty-handed.

She swung the door wide, knocking on the door frame once it was fully open. “Guess who just won a fabulous all-expenses paid trip to another world!”

Margo only barely kept herself from wincing when she got a good look at Eliot's face – his eyes were bloodshot and his nose was ruddy, so he'd probably already been crying _and_ drinking this morning. Well, all the more reason for her to be his hero.

“What are you talking about?” His voice sounded a bit hoarse, too. So. Definitely crying.

“I heard from a little birdie... okay, more like a large-ish bunny. Look, the details don't matter.” Margo waved her hand dismissively. Eliot's eyes narrowed in suspicion. “So. It's possible I may have slipped to Fogg that you were looking into maybe taking a little vacay-”

“I'm not,” Eliot said, firmly. “We're fully booked and it's the holidays, Bambi.”

“-and there's this girl from a place called Fillory who needs a place to stay for a week or so.” Margo smiled at him winsomely.

“We're fully booked,” Eliot said, again. “Where would we put her?”

“I was thinking she could stay – hear me out, okay – she can stay in your room-”

“Bambi, even if I were looking for a rebound right now, it wouldn't be some random _girl_ -”

“-while you stay at her place in Fillory.”

“What?”

Margo widened her smile, while he blinked at her, rapid-fire, blink-blink-blink.

“Okay. Maybe it's the hangover, but are you telling me that you want to kick me out of my room for the holidays?”

“I want you to get the fuck out of New York, El,” Margo said bluntly. “You are a goddamn _disaster_ when you've just been broken up with. Our guests don't need to see that. You don't need to inflict that horror on them.”

“Thanks. Really feeling the love.” He leaned his head down on his arms again and she sighed.

“You know if you stay here, you'll just keep thinking about that asshole. Come on, Fillory'll do you good. There's opium in the air.”

“...what? What the fuck?”

Margo settled down in the chair in front of his desk. “Okay, you know that travel book I've told you about?”

“Fantastical trips into worlds unknown?” Eliot ventured uncertainly. She couldn't blame him for not remembering, not really. She read a lot of books and told Eliot about most of them.

“Marvelous Journeys To Uncharted Planets,” Margo corrected. “Fillory is chapter six. It's always been one of my favorites. Like I said before, there's fucking opium in the air. Like, holy shit, right? They also have a thriving democracy, a healing river, talking animals, a flowering bridge called 'the rainbow bridge', just... all sorts of cool shit, El.”

“Then why don't _you_ go?” Eliot asked. “You're the one who would actually appreciate it.”

“You're the one who needs it,” she said, generously. “ _El_. You really wanted to make things work with Mike. I may not have understood why, but you cared about him. A lot. So... don't just sit in your office and marinate in cheap alcohol. Go have a fucking adventure. Screw someone cute. Then come back for Christmas and tell me about it.”

“I'll _think_ about it,” he told her. “And don't insult my taste in drinks.”

“Okay, if you insist. Don't take too long. I told Fogg we'd be ready to get a messenger bunny from her in two hours.”

“ _Bambi_.”

Then, after a moment.

“Okay, please explain what the fuck is up with the bunny thing.”

**Kilnsworth Creek, Fillory**

Fen looked at Hodglesworth, Timar, and Kevin. They looked back, slightly bored.

“All right, I think I have the wording for the first message. Ready? Go: Hi, Eliot, I'm Fen. Offer accepted gladly. Details to follow.” One by one, the bunnies disappeared with a hop into that space between worlds.

A moment later, Hodglesworth appeared.

“SHIT, THEY'RE REALLY BUNNIES.”

Timar hopped into existence near her feet.

“SORRY, FEN, WAS IT?”

Kevin landed half on top of Hodglesworth and shifted off sullenly before giving her the last message.

“THIS IS ELIOT. FUCK.”

Fen sighed.

“Okay, next set of messages.”

**New York City, Earth**

Eliot sent the bunnies back, hopefully for the last time.

It had taken... a lot of messages back and forth, but they finally had a plan. Eliot had originally been hoping that Henry's traveller friend could just blip him over to Fillory but it was, apparently, a grave insult he'd even asked and now Victoria wasn't even talking to Henry anymore. So, that was out. And Fen's traveller friend either couldn't take passengers or refused on principle. It was hard to be certain, given the limitations of communicating via teleporting messenger bunnies.

So, they both would be going through the Neitherlands fountain system.

Eliot had never actually been to the Neitherlands, though he'd learned about it at Brakebills. It was something of a demiplane or pocket world that connected other worlds together, like a train station of the universe. It didn't sound terribly interesting to him, honestly, but it was, apparently, the only way to actually get to Fillory on his own.

He left his office and as he did, he got a good whiff of himself and- Margo was right. He _was_ a fucking disaster. He needed a shower and he needed to pack some clothes and he needed- he needed to get the _fuck_ out of New York.

On the way to his suite, he was accosted by Todd.

“Are you feeling okay, dude?” Todd asked. Somehow under the impression that Eliot had any interest in qualifying as the sort of person who could be casually called 'dude'. “You look under the weather.”

“Yes,” Eliot said, seizing the excuse like a lifeline. “I am, actually, feeling a bit ill. Just a little. So, I'm going to take a vacation. Get some-” What did people get on vacations? “-sun. Fresh air. I'm going to- ah. To Fillory.”

“Fillory? Wow,” Todd said, in a tone that made it clear he'd never fucking heard of Fillory before this exact moment in time. “Sounds great. I hope you feel better.”

“Are you feeling sick?” A woman's voice, bright and concerned. Eliot had a feeling he recognized it, turned around slowly and- yes, the guest in room 12A, Alice Quinn, who had graduated from Brakebills the year after him. With full honors, if he remembered correctly. “Is it contagious?” Her eyes, big and blue, blinked at him from the other side of her glasses.

“It isn't,” Eliot assured her.

The woman with her – Kady Diaz? No, Kady _Orloff_ -Diaz, sharing her room – gave Eliot a cool look up and down. “Yeah, don't worry about it, Allie. Just a hangover.”

“Oh,” Alice said, sounding a touch embarassed. “Well. I suppose we've all been there.”

“Frequently,” Kady agreed. “Hey, Waugh, this place isn't half bad. I was kinda expecting it to suck, and it doesn't.”

“Half-hearted compliment accepted,” Eliot said, smoothly. “Please tell Margo, too, when you get a chance. She'll be the sole host here while I'm... recovering.”

“I hope Fillory is relaxing,” Todd said cheerfully as Eliot hurried away.

He got himself clean, because that was definitely step number one in this process. Then he packed. He hadn't been able to get too many pertinent details about Fillory out of either Margo (who had never actually been there) or the rabbits (who were rabbits) but he would make do. Once the luggage was taken care of, all that was left was to metaphorically hand the keys of the castle over to Margo.

He kissed her on the cheek, softly.

“Take care of our guests while I'm gone, Bambi,” he said. He cupped her face. “Take care of yourself, too. Make that boy of yours treat you better and actually show up now and again.”

“Have _fun_ ,” Margo said in return. “The world is gonna be your fucking oyster when you come back freshly single and ready for action. Heal, breathe in the opium. And you better come back before Christmas. I want you with me. You're my family.”

“I love you, too,” he said. It's the most true thing in his life, especially now that everything with Mike had gone tits up. “And take care of our new little chickadee. Whatever Fillory is like, I suspect New York might be more than a little overwhelming. Be good to Fen while she's here.”

Margo nodded. She took up his hand like a knight pledging a vow, kissed it playfully.

“Now get out of here before I change my mind about letting you leave,” she told him.

**Kilnsworth Creek, Fillory**

Quentin tugged Fen into his arms, giving her a tight hug. “Do you need anything else from the cottage before we finish getting everything straightened up?”

“I think I'm good,” Fen said. Her hair was neatly braided, in the same style as she'd done Jane's hair this morning. She seemed as determined as ever, but maybe was finally ready to turn it to a new focus. New York would be good for her, honestly. She was curious and clever and much better with crowds of people than he was.

“Are you sure you want to go alone, Aunt Fen?” Jane asked, face bright and concerned. “I can carry your bags! Be your squire! Like Janie Waters in _Tale of the Never Knight_!” One of Jane's favorites of Fen's stories. She especially loved the voice that Fen did for the Never Knight, growly and deep.

Fen laughed affectionately.

“Oh, not this time, my dear Janie,” Fen said, dropping a kiss on Jane's forehead. “I only have permission for myself at the place where I'm staying. But if I go back again sometime, I'll see if I can arrange for you to come along too. Deal?”

Jane nodded, obviously dissatisfied with the outcome but aware that this wasn't an issue that could be pushed any further.

“You'll be back in time for the last festival day, right?” Jane asked, and Quentin's chest ached at the concern in her voice. He wanted to lift her up in his arms and tell her that, of course, Fen would come back. Most people who leave come back. Most people aren't like Poppy.

On the other hand, a semi-guilty voice reminded him, he'd left home and never gone back, too. So it wasn't only Poppy who could teach her the wrong lesson here.

“I wouldn't miss Umbermoon festival day for all the publishers in all the worlds,” Fen promised solemnly. She looked at Quentin. “You'll think about what I said?”

He wasn't entirely sure where she expected him to find romance here. Besides, he didn't need it. All he needed was to raise up Jane well enough that she could find her own happiness and adventure some day. Still, the advice was good if turned around.

“I will as long as _you_ promise to think about it, too,” Quentin said. “You deserve some happiness of your own, Fen. Don't just chase after what you think your destiny is. And send a bunny when you arrive.”

She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “You sound like father. In so many ways.”

With all that her parents had done for him, it was a pretty great compliment.

She hefted her pack onto her back, winked at Jane, then turned and headed out of the cottage.

Halfway down the lane, she looked back and waved one last time, and Jane jumped up and down to wave at her through the window.

“She'll be home for the festival day, Jane-bug. You know how Fen is about keeping her word,” Quentin reminded her. “Now, help me get this place cleaned up for a stranger, hmm?”

“Yes, daddy,” Jane said, turning away from window. There wasn't a lot of work to do, but Quentin preferred to keep his hands busy, and his daughter had inherited that much from him. They were both easier to manage when they had a task to complete.

Fen would pass by her parents' house, next, say her goodbyes to them. Then onto town, where she would spend a couple of hours finding everyone she wanted to talk to before finally dropping by Julia and Penny's place to pick up the map Julia was enchanting for her.

She'd be fine. And she'd be fine on Earth, too. She was a grown woman and, though she might not have magic, she was certainly better with a knife than Quentin himself was and always carried at least two.

**New York City, Earth**

“It'll be loud,” Penny had warned her.

He hadn't been joking. New York was intensely loud, like a thundering parade of the council guard times a thousand.

"It'll be crowded," Quentin had cautioned.

And, Umber guide her, it was _very_ crowded. Fen saw more people in a minute than she thought maybe lived in all of Kilnsworth Creek and the next few towns combined. And they walked so quickly, everywhere, attention completely focused on where they were heading. There were a handful of others like her, glancing around, fascinated, but the gawkers were far outnumbered by the goers.

"There won't be any talking animals," Julia had said, off-hand, though she'd added, "Unless you run into a parrot."

Fen saw some animals - lovely flocking birds flitting about here and there, dogs with leashes around their necks that were attached to their human companions' wrists, and perhaps smaller mammals wandering about the tiny side-streets. But Julia was right. None of the animals around spoke a language Fen already knew, at any rate, and none of them were speaking the Earth languages that Penny had set up for her to have translated — English, which was the one her friends spoke to each other when they wanted to keep secrets, and a smattering of various other languages that Penny knew from spells he'd learned here and there.

So, yes. Loud and crowded and also the air smelled different? Which was probably the 'pollution' that all three of them had told her about, yet… all-together, it was _glorious_. Absolutely glorious.

She held onto her map and bag tightly, mindful of Penny's warning about pickpockets, spun in a quick circle to take another look around. Every building here was as big as the tallest tower at Whitespire and most were many times taller. The people were dressed in styles and fabrics she'd never seen — never even imagined. Many of the women, especially, wore clothes that were tight and fitted across the bosom and butt.

Fen studied her map. The strange straight lines on it had been puzzling at home in Fillory and even when traversing the unfamiliar fountains of the Neitherlands — where she hadn't run into Eliot unfortunately, as she had wanted to thank him in person — but now that she was in New York City itself, they made sense. This place didn't have the winding roads of Fillory or the organized paths of the Neitherlands. It had 'streets', harder than dirt and more even and smooth than rock, though pitted in places.

The streets were labeled with numbers too, not names. Imagine having so many roads that one couldn't even name them all!

The numbers did make it easier to follow the glowing lines of Julia's map. Fen ended up not far from a forest and glen hidden inside the City, the magic leading her to a set of stairs and a plain doorway.

But this was a place of Magicians, like Quentin and Penny and Julia, so she didn't trust the outward appearance of chipped stone and peeling paint. She marched up the stairs and knocked sharply on the door.

Nothing.

She looked over the door more closely. She hoped it didn't require a spell to open. Fen had become fairly good at manipulating the magical objects created by her friends but had no talent at casting spells herself.

There was a door handle of course, so she tried turning it. It turned easily enough, but the door didn't budge.

Hmm, there was a bit next to the door that was a little out of place, a round white disc stuck up against the wall. Fen poked at it, and it pushed up against the wall and there was a noise she could hear, echoing from beyond the door.

Clever. An alarm of some kind. Maybe Quentin could make one for her cottage as gift of the new year.

The door opened.

There was a woman there, curly brown hair that was darker than Fen's. Skin a few shades darker, too. She was in a form-fitting skirt and top, like many of the women Fen had seen so far today, with those pointy shoes that made her taller. Her lips were full and her eyes were laughing, and she was smiling too.

"You our world-hopper? We've been expecting you," and the woman tugged Fen inside, firmly shutting the door and-

They were inside a great hall, wider by far than the door had suggested. Fen took off her cloak at the woman's urging and let herself be tugged along.

Impossibly, the hall opened up into a room grander than any in Fillory, excepting at Whitespire or perhaps the capitals of their neighboring countries, though she'd never been. The room was tall and seemed open to the sky, snowflakes falling down but then vanishing. It must be a great working of magic, as it was not currently snowing out-of-doors.

There was an enormous tree, decorated with lights and tiny figurines, and there was a fireplace, and an elaborate candelabra holding a place of honor on the mantle, though all the candles weren't lit.

"It's beautiful," Fen whispered. "You are very powerful Magicians, aren't you?" She almost touched a small fragile-looking doll on a table but pulled back her hand before it made contact.

"Oh, babycakes, what a lovely thing to say," the woman said, with a sharp-looking smile. "I did the work on that spell myself. I'm Margo-" and she fluffed up her hair with one hand, striking a pose. "-Eliot's partner in crime."

"You're criminals?" Fen asked, dubiously. "Or is my translation spell getting it wrong?"

The woman — Margo — bubbled over with laughter again, like it was under the surface the whole time. She was still pulling Fen along, up a wide staircase now, wood with complicated carved railings.

"It's an Earth expression," Margo explained and Fen knew all about Earth expressions, though her friends had never used that particular one.

"Ah," Fen said. "Like the cats that escape from bags, but it actually means you told a secret." She'd never gotten a good reason for why the cats were in the bags in the first place.

"Exactly right," Margo said, as they stopped in front of a door at the end of the hall, all fancy dark wood. "Now, it should be cleaned up, but let me show which drawers you can use."

She flung the door open and led Fen inside.

This was intimidatingly impressive, too. She wasn't entirely sure how a man who lived in such luxury — surely even greater than what the governors had at Whitespire — would feel about Fen's cozy little cottage.

His bed was huge, taking up more than twice as much space as any bed she'd seen in her life, yet the room was big enough not to feel crowded with such a large piece of furniture in it.

Margo opened up another door — an in-set wardrobe, it seemed, with a pole across the top and some-

Fen tugged one of the odd hooked triangles off the pole. It was smooth to the touch, with an odd rough seam.

"Clothes hanger for… well, hanging up your clothes," Margo said. Fen had never owned a piece of clothing that required special caretaking, though Julia had one lovely long dress that she kept hung with special soft clamps in her own wardrobe.

Margo knelt down and tugged open a drawer inside the wardrobe. It was empty.

"You can put anything that doesn't need to hang up in here." Margo eyed Fen's satchel, which did seem quite small in the face of all this splendor.

"Thank you, Margo," Fen said. She frowned slightly. "My clothes aren't really the same as everyone else's, are they? I must look quite out of place." She touched her own modest neckline, several inches higher than Margo's, which showed the dip between her breasts. Rubbed at the rough fabric of her serviceable traveling skirt, loose and thick and long, especially compared to Margo's, which rose up past her knees and clung to her legs.

"If you want to go shopping for clothes, I'm your girl," Margo said, wrapping her arm around Fen's shoulders. It had to be another Earth expression — 'your girl' said like that — as Margo was well past girlhood, but it made something warm and unfamiliar flutter deep in Fen's belly.

"I'd like that," Fen said, and she felt as if she were groping towards a strange new thought in the murky waters of the unknown. For some reason, she found herself thinking of Quentin throwing her own advice back at her, to open up her heart. "I don't want to look too odd to the other people here."

"I am a goddamn master at helping people fit in," Margo said. Her hand straightened out the collar of Fen's shirt and Fen's stomach fluttered again. "I turned my boyfriend from a stoner to a masterchef in just a three-hour shopping trip and now he gets month-long invites to Paris."

The fluttering twisted and curdled inside Fen.

"Ah," she said. "That sounds impressive. I don't know what a 'stoner' is, though. Was he a mason?"

Of course, someone as lovely and bright and shimmering as Margo had a boyfriend. Not that it mattered much to Fen one way or the other. She was here to get her books published.

"Oh, honey," Margo said, her hand still playing with Fen's shirt. "It means he loves getting high- uh, smoking herbs to mess with his brain."

"We have that!" Fen said, though for some reason it was harder than usual to muster up her normal amount of cheer. "Plants that make you dizzy or fizzy or let you see into other worlds."

"Josh would fucking adore that," Margo said. Josh must be the… the masterchef boyfriend. She must really love him, to sound so wistful. "Well, Fen, I have to get back to it-" back to _what_ , Fen wondered, but didn't have a chance to ask, "-so just focus on settling in for now. We can do the shopping tomorrow, when you aren't so tired."

And, like a gust of wind, Margo was out the door, leaving Fen alone in her new friend's room.

She didn't open any extra drawers or peek into any of the boxes on his dresser or vanity table, but she did explore. There was the massive bed, the in-set wardrobe, the dresser, two night stands, the vanity table and a free-standing full-length mirror. All very well-made, with even-grained, polished wood. Quentin could make something as nice, maybe, but it would take him time and drain quite a bit of his magic.

Fen brushed aside the heavy drapes on the window opposite the entrance and gasped.

There was a dramatic range of snowy mountains against a gloriously vibrant sunset. The glass must be enchanted to show something like this when it should be towers and streets outside, but what an inspirational view. Eliot wouldn't see anything like this out of the very much _not_ enchanted windows of her cottage.

"Janie Waters and the Enchanted Mountains, where it's always sunset," Fen mused. She tugged out her little notebook and the pen Julia had spelled with ever-ink, and wrote the idea down. Janie could have _quite_ an adventure in mountains like that.

There was another door to explore, so Fen turned the handle and pulled it open.

By Ember's light, it was the fanciest washroom ever dreamed up by human or beast. Fen ran her fingers along the smooth stone of the countertop. The deep inlaid sink that sparkled with hidden colors. Another mirror, this one with a little section of it that magnified the portion of her body that crossed it. A toilet with golden-trimmed accents.

And the bathtub. Huge enough for half a dozen people. Laid into the floor with steps to walk down into it. Decadent as anything the Lorian royalty might boast, she would bet her toes on it.

"I hope you aren't too disappointed with my home, Eliot," Fen muttered. Then she twisted one of the handles on the bath, eager to try it out.

**(not quite) Kilnsworth Creek, Fillory**

Eliot sat in the shade of the enormous leafy 'clock tree' and resisted the urge to check his phone. It wouldn't work here. All he could do was wait for his guide — Fen's friend, Penny — to arrive. Penny would check every couple of hours, when he got the chance, Fen had said. Well, the chainsmoker's voice that came out of those teleporting bunnies had said, technically.

The trip hadn't been difficult just… long. He was spoiled by the portal system at home, honestly, which connected him to all his favorite places with minimal effort for him personally.

The Neitherlands had been boring but easy enough to navigate, with one of those Librarians who watched over it always within shouting distance, it had seemed. And Fillory was beautiful, what little of it that Eliot had seen so far.

He couldn't smell the opium in the air, but he had felt remarkably more relaxed and cheerful since arriving, so there might be truth to the rumor.

Eliot waited perhaps another forty minutes when, all at once, there was a man in front of him. Light brown skin, hair trimmed short, loose clothing. Cute, but seemed annoyed. With Eliot?

"You're the New York Magician, right? Eliot."

Eliot gave a lazy wave. "That's me. It's a pleasure, Penny."

Penny made a harumphing sound that sounded more like it belonged to an eighty-year-old retiree than someone around Eliot's age.

"Penny Adiyodi," he said. "Here are your directions. Try not to get lost."

He handed a folded piece of paper to Eliot and then was gone, as abruptly as he'd arrived.

"Well, fuck you too, buddy," Eliot said, with a sigh. He unfolded the paper and- well, it _was_ a gorgeous map. Someone knew calligraphy here and wielded it with grace, every place name marked out in beautiful detail.

Shame the messenger hadn't been willing to stay and chat. He'd been quite attractive. Tall, though, which wasn't Eliot's preference. Still, it would be fine in a fling. Nice chest, which had been fairly visible with his unbuttoned shirt. And even with the scowl, he'd had a lovely face.

Still, not meant to be, it seemed.

Eliot focused his attention back on the map, which had a useful glowing "you're here" sparkle of light and a dotted path for him to follow.

He got up, gathered his luggage behind himself like little ducklings, and headed off along the dirt road, west away from the clock tree.

There was even a helpful little note on the map stating approximately how long it should take him to walk there — four hours, apparently, with just himself for company — and it made him wonder if the mapmaker was familiar with google maps.

There was certainly some exchange between their worlds — Margo had that travelogue, after all — but he wasn't sure how much. Not enough that anyone had bothered to pave this road, at any rate.

Eliot wasn't an avid walker, but he could get by, and he didn't want to use magic to shorten the journey. If he was going to spend time in a world like this, he wanted to actually experience it for what it was, not just skim through it without making an honest effort. He arrived at the outskirts of a small village in just about four and a half hours, as the sun was beginning to duck behind the trees, and the dancing line directed him to diverge a bit there, head towards one of the outer fields.

He ran his hand along the smooth top pole of a fence. Someone had taken care with this, made sure it had no splinters for wandering fingers. He could see his destination now, a small cottage at the end of the lane, with flowerpots hanging from the eaves. There was a riot of colors blooming despite the chill in the air.

The cottage looked quaint and handmade, but built with as much care as the fence. There were beds for flowers or vegetables out front, but banked for the cold season.

And there was a note pinned to the front of the door, folded, with 'Eliot' written in a haltering script that was nothing like the writing on the map.

He tugged away the little knife affixing the note to the door and opened it.

_Eliot!_

_My first real houseguest!_

_I've done my best to make my home welcoming for a person it doesn't know. My brother will be by sometime in the evening to check if you've arrived. He is the dearest man alive and will help you out if you need anything._

_I hope you enjoy your stay! Kilnsworth Creek is a busy place under the light of the Umbermoon festival, so you will not run out of things to do! May Umber guide you and Ember light your way, my newest friend._

_With heart and truth,_

_Fen_

Eliot folded the letter back up and stuck it in his pocket.

The handle of the door slid in a diagonal way unfamiliar to him, but it was easy enough to figure out, so Eliot let himself in. There were cheery-looking lanterns — oil, maybe, but he couldn't see any place for it, so it might be magic instead — lining the walls. It seemed a straightforward layout, a short hallway that expanded out into a living room that was also a dining room and a kitchen. Only two other doors.

The first he tested went to a bathroom. Simple but it looked like actual plumbing, though he wasn't certain how… hmm. There was a copper freestanding tub, but it did have a tap, so he wouldn't need to lug water from a nearby stream or something ungodly like that.

It was clearly, emphatically, the home of someone who lived by herself. And yet, again…

He went back out into the big room, touched one of the drawings on the wall. A pencil sketch of a young girl, drowning in armor, following after a tall knight. 'Janie and the Never Knight' was penciled in at the bottom, a different hand from either Fen's or the mapmaker's. It was stronger and sharper.

Maybe the brother she'd mentioned in her letter?

He checked the other door. Fen's bedroom was bright and gaily-decorated. The bed was turned down, in anticipation of him, Eliot supposed. The very narrow bed.

He waved a hand and had his luggage march into the bedroom to wait, then inspected the kitchen. A pantry shelf — she'd left bread, cheese, a jug of… he uncorked it… some variety of strong moonshine. There was also a whole section of root vegetables that gave him uncomfortable childhood flashbacks, so best to avoid those. Bread and cheese for dinner, then.

He went back to the bedroom to settle in. It would be rude to use magic to alter her bed, right? He sat down on it, bounced to test how it felt. Eating first would be a good idea, but a nap certainly was tempting.

And weren't vacations about indulging in temptations?

It felt like he had just laid down when he heard a muffled knock on the door and then a man's voice saying, "Eliot? Eliot Waugh?"

Eliot did a quick clean-up charm. Nothing fancy but enough to make himself presentable in case the brother was as handsome as Fen's friend Penny had been. He left the bedroom and-

 _-oh_.

Yes, very much as attractive as Penny and more aligned with Eliot's personal tastes. Shorter than Penny by almost a foot, he'd wager. Not even as tall as Mike. Long hair but pulled back up into a bun, with only a few wisps escaping. Clean-shaven, but a bold five o'clock shadow was showing. Strong bone structure and- Eliot glanced down, capable hands. While his eyes were down there anyway… he couldn't see as much of the man's body as he'd like — Fillorians wore such loose-fitting clothing — but what he could see was... _nice_.

He had something of a farmer's market vibe to him, including what Eliot suspected was a farmer's tan, which pulled away from the beauty somewhat but not enough to ruin the picture as a whole.

"Fen's brother?" Eliot asked, in a tone he'd cultivated to be sexy and rough and low, but in a way that came off as natural. "Her note said to expect you. I'm Eliot."

Fen's brother blinked at him a moment, mouth falling open, and, _oh darling_ , yes, he would make a lovely little fling to help Eliot get over his heartbreak. Margo was going to be so proud of him.

"Qwen- um. Quentin. Cald- uh. Quentin Coldwater. Is me," Quentin… Coldwater? said, still blinking as he stumbled through the sentence. No mistaking it. Definitely the reaction of a man who adored dick and was trying hard not to imagine Eliot's right now. "I'm Fen's- uh. I'm an adopted brother. Or- well, more like an informal fostering situation-" he was a rambler, too. Ramblers were so much fun in bed. "-they don't really have- uh. Legal adoption, as such. In Fillory."

"Oh?" Eliot promoted, to see if Quentin could keep going.

"Yeah! I know, it's all very straightforward," Quentin said, earnestly. "You just sort of say, hey, I'll take care of this kid, and if no one objects, that's it and everyone considers it as good as- um. As good as if you had their blood." Then he huffed out a tiny breath and, sadly, Eliot could see him redirecting himself. "But that probably sounds- uh- sounds really boring. To you. I brought-" he waved his hand backwards towards the table, which had bowls and plates set out and covered with clothes. "-Fen didn't have much in her pantry when I checked earlier, so I brought food. She always drops it off at- she thinks I don't eat enough-"

"Is she your older sister or is she the caretaking type?" Eliot interjected, gently, into Quentin's faltering stream of words. There was a flash of something on Quentin's face — pain or shame, maybe? — but it quickly smoothed away again.

"She just fusses," Quentin said, vaguely.

He turned away, towards the table, uncovering what looked like a pie, though it smelled- ah, a meat pie of some kind. Quentin gestured at it with a lost-looking hand motion, like he was startled that the food _he'd_ brought was actually here.

"It's fresh," Quentin said and there was a dusting of smeared white powder under his ear. Flour, a few hours old. _Quentin_ had made this food for him, then. How domestic of him. "Um, and we don't have- there isn't a fridge like you'd have back in- um, on Earth. But we have- it's almost as good."

Was Quentin always this flustered or was this a reaction to Eliot?

Quentin went over to the pantry shelf Eliot had discovered earlier, knelt down. Eliot leaned against the wall and watched as Quentin pushed a hand against the floor and- a clever little drawer pushed up and out of the ground. There was a jar in there that he thought might be homemade ice cream.

"It's kind of both a freezer and a fridge," Quentin said, sheepishly. "I couldn't calibrate the- anyway, I usually come every few days to renew the spells but-"

"Feel free," Eliot said easily. "I like company."

He trailed his fingers over Quentin's shoulders and Quentin- froze, then shivered slightly. Didn't try to brush Eliot off, but he wasn't actively encouraging him either.

Regretfully, Eliot backed up so that Quentin could get up off the floor.

"I also-" Quentin sounded a little breathless, maybe, just from a teasing tone of voice and the smallest of touches. He cleared his throat. "It's not the same as a- a microwave but- similar."

He tapped a squarish stone on the kitchen countertop, muttered a spell in a language Eliot recognized as the 'Fillorian' that the on-duty Librarian had magicked into his head before he'd gone into the fountain.

That was when Eliot realized that Quentin had been speaking in English this whole time. Penny had been, too. Fen's bunnies had had the scent of translation magic built in to them, so he suspected she hadn't been. Well, _that_ was interesting. And Quentin also knew about microwaves and refrigerators.

Eliot had no intention of prying — he certainly wouldn't want Quentin digging into his own painful past, after all — but he noted it, to think about later.

Quentin showed him the bathroom next — the taps were enchanted too, in a messy and experimental way, and they let the short, sealed-off pipes draw on water from the well in the backyard. Like the kitchen spells, the spell wasn't permanent, though Eliot got the impression that was partly because Quentin kept tinkering with it.

"She lets me use her place to test things out. I guess she's my guinea pig, when it comes to magic," Quentin explained, with a soft laugh. A very Earth phrase, that. Eliot just hummed in answer.

Quentin was capable of talking for _quite_ a while, especially if he was at all encouraged to babble. He tripped over his own words, talked with his hands, made all sorts of faces.

And he blushed whenever Eliot was even mildly flirtatious, red stains on his cheeks and nose.

Not terribly experienced then, at least not with men, despite being roughly Eliot's age.

"Fen said you're swapping for, um. Not quite two weeks. A vacation," Quentin said, about forty minutes later, by Eliot's reckoning. "She said you owned some kind of business?"

"A retreat for Magicians," Eliot said. "We just paid off the last of what we owed on it and we're finally running in the black."

"So, this is a celebration," Quentin said quietly, to himself. And that was certainly a nicer way to think of it than a break-up recovery trip, so Eliot just nodded. "What made you think of Fillory?"

"Just fell into my lap. Your sister was looking for a place to stay and my friend knew I needed a break," Eliot said. He smiled down at Quentin, looming slightly, and watched the color blossom on Quentin's face. "Lucky for us both."

He deliberately didn't clarify if he meant both as in him and Fen or him and Quentin.

"Uh, yeah," Quentin agreed, and for a moment he was swaying towards Eliot, but then he caught himself, glanced towards the darkened sky outside the windows. "I need to- to go home." He took a step away, in the direction of the door and added, eyes firmly fixed on Eliot's left shoulder. "I could come back tomorrow morning. Bring you some breakfast, maybe- maybe show you around a little?"

"Hurrying home to the wife?" Eliot asked, impulsively. Quentin wasn't reacting like he'd expect from someone in a committed relationship, but no harm in checking. "Or husband?"

Quentin chuckled, as if the question was ridiculous. "God, no, neither of- I… definitely not."

Eliot thought about pushing harder, trying to get Quentin to stay but- he could pace himself. He didn't want to scare Quentin off, after all.

"See you bright and early," he said.

**New York City, Earth**

Margo crossed one leg elegantly over the other, sweeping the skirt away to show off her legs to their best effect. Studied herself in the mirror.

Once she was satisfied, she ran through the tuts of the spell, had it dialed into the mirror closest to Josh, and smiled brightly as the spell connected.

Tried to connect.

Fizzled out.

She hopped up from the bed, paced impatiently. Part of her wanted to portal straight to Paris but-

-but she had a responsibility here and even if she didn't-

-she didn't want to be someone who chased and chased and chased.

That was one of the reasons she'd settled on Josh in the first place. Brakebills had been… honestly, kind of rough. Eliot had been her main point of warmth in all the chaos, but Hoberman had- he'd crept up on her. They'd first screwed when she was a first-year and he was raw off his breakup with Victoria and… it'd been a casual thing. But somehow, they kept looping back to each other, through all the times it hadn't worked out with anyone else.

Was that enough?

Maybe they shouldn't have ever tried to take things further than 'friends who banged sometimes'.

Margo sighed and headed down to the main hall. The Fillory woman, Fen, was there, cooing over the decorations. She was a quaint thing, really, all homespun fabrics and braided hair. Margo understood why Eliot had said to look out for her. She had the same wary, fascinated look about her that those Fillory bunnies did, like she'd just popped into someplace strange but with a purpose.

"Hey there, honey," Margo said, coming up from behind Fen and resting a hand on her shoulder, watching her startle, her hand- _oh_ , that was unexpected. Fen's hand landed on her belt, where Margo noticed a small leather sheath. Bunny had teeth. "You all unpacked?"

"I didn't bring much along," Fen admitted, with a careless shrug, her hand falling away from the dagger hilt now that she'd realized who was touching her. "Traveling basics, though more suited for bundling up in the woods than living in your City, I'm afraid."

"You'll be fine," Todd interjected.

Margo glanced up, noticing him for the first time. She raised an imperious eyebrow.

"Oh, Margo, hey! I was helping Fen find a place to eat tonight," Todd burbled. "She wants to see as much of New York as she can while she's here, so I-"

Margo lifted her hand. Todd shushed.

"Were you about to suggest an overpriced tourist trap?" she asked. Sweetly. Todd gave her a queasy smile, which meant 'yes'. "Ridiculous. I'll show you the _real_ New York, Fen. Much more enjoyable, I promise."

Margo wasn't a native either, of course, but New York had slid over her heart like a glove. She'd learned it with Eliot, on their breaks from Brakebills and then when she'd come home again after. Now, she took Fen's arm in hers and led her outside.

"Do you miss Fillory's air?" Margo asked as they headed down the avenue. She had a particular destination in mind, along a path that would hopefully show Fen that Earth wasn't all skyscrapers and pavement. "Ours isn't quite as good."

The air inside the resort was filtered to a meadow's pureness by magic, naturally, but every spell had its limits. And it would take more than all the Magicians that Margo had ever heard of existing to cleanse the air of a city as big as New York.

"It's different," Fen said, diplomatically. Or maybe she meant it. "Oh, where are we-"

Margo grinned as she pulled Fen into the elevator that led to the walkway of High Line Park. "It'll get us where we need to go," she said breezily.

Fen fucking loved the elevator and was unhappy at leaving it, but then brightened up when she saw the park itself.

They took their time, strolling along. It was dark, but the city lights made it bright enough.

"You have a bridge of flowers, right?" Margo asked. "In Fillory?"

"Not personally," Fen said, with a laugh in her voice. "But I suppose you mean the Rainbow Bridge? Yes. It was once part of the path prospective monarchs would take to claim their crowns. The governing council still goes there during the summer festival for the blessings of Ember and Umber."

Margo directed Fen towards the food vendors, got them a little bit from each person they passed by, and Fen sampled with delight as Margo told her where each dish hailed from originally.

"So many different flavors," Fen said, approvingly. "And so much meat."

"If you're vegetarian…" Margo started, but then saw Fen's politely confused look. "If you don't eat meat normally, you don't have to eat it here just because I gave it to you. I know you have talking animals and shit in Fillory."

"Talking Animals are certainly not to be eaten," Fen agreed, seriously. "That would be murder and desecration of a corpse. But there are many animals that are not Talking Animals. Care must be taken, is all."

Margo paid for some dim sum for herself, giving herself some time to think of how to word her questions tactfully. Eliot was better at tact than she was — at least when he wasn't heartbroken.

"Do accidents happen?"

Fen licked her fingers and shook her head. "Oh no. It's… they're our neighbors, too. Most towns are small enough that you know everyone, and Talking Animals by far outnumber humans, and that matters when it comes to election times, so the majority of the council are Talking Animals. Accidents like that might have happened in the times of the queens and kings, but those days are long behind us."

"You ever wish you still had a queen or a king?" Margo asked.

Fen shook her head. "They were always humans from Earth, by decree of Ember and Umber. Nothing against your people, of course, but having Fillorians in charge of Fillory is better."

"Sure, makes sense," Margo said, and she liked the sincerity in Fen's voice. She was about to ask more questions when Fen wandered off towards the edge of the walkway to stare down at the river. Margo joined her. "I was tempted to go along too, to see Fillory for myself. But the retreat needs someone hands-on right now and he needed a break a lot more than I do."

"You should come visit sometime," Fen said, with a quick glance towards Margo. "You could bring your… your masterchef with you."

If Eliot were here, Margo would bitch about how unlikely _that_ would be, but he wasn't, so she kept it behind her lips.

"I suppose I could," she said instead. Margo looked Fen over again, consideringly. Even in her Ren-Faire-lite outfit, she was a gorgeous woman. "You got yourself someone special?"

Fen's face scrunched up and for a moment, Margo thought a clarification was needed, but then she said, "Not anymore." She sighed, sounding a bit mournful. Added, "Not for a while. I thought that I would… that there was still something between me and my ex-boyfriend but- but I'm the only one who did. He's getting married."

Margo winced sympathetically. "That why you needed a trip off planet?"

Fen sighed. Shrugged. "It's what started it. But since I'm here, I was told… that you have people who create many copies of books, easier than hand-copying or having someone use magic. And my brother thought maybe one of these publishers-" she said the word slowly and carefully. "-might be interested in paying me money for the stories I write."

"You're a writer?" Margo leaned forward, with interest. "What sort of stories?"

"Oh, little adventures that make my niece happy," Fen said, a slightly distant look on her face. "Swordfights and quests-"

"-and magic?" Margo couldn't help asking.

"And magic," Fen agreed, with a smile. "Lots of magic. Her father is a Magician, after all. She would be disappointed if there was no magic."

"Children's fantasy lit," Margo said. It had always been her favorite genre as a child. Still was, though she didn't like to parade it around. "Cute."

Fen's face sharpened for a moment as she looked Margo over, but apparently she realized Margo was being sincere, because she said, hesitantly, "I could tell you more about them?"

"I would love that."

**Kilnsworth Creek, Fillory**

Jane was already asleep when Quentin got home, and Julia was snuggled in his bed flipping through a worn paperback of the first _Earthsea_ book.

"Hey," Quentin said, dropping down next to her, shoeless but otherwise still dressed. "Penny go home already?"

"He's been gone a while," Julia said. She put the book on his nightstand. "You took longer than we were expecting. Was city guy fussy?"

"He was…" Quentin wasn't sure how to describe Eliot. Charming. Gorgeous. He hadn't seemed bored with Quentin at all, which was probably just him being polite but it had been… nice. Apart from everything else, though, Eliot was also leaving again in a couple of weeks so even if he _had_ come across as flirtatious sometimes, it didn't matter. "He seems like a nice enough guy."

"Nice enough," Julia echoed. She squinted at him suspiciously. "Penny didn't like him."

"That's not a surprise," Quentin said. Penny claimed he had to be extra-careful to make up for Quentin and Julia being 'wide-eyed helpless toddlers who fucking trust everyone' and hadn't budged on that stance in years. And Eliot was… polished in a way that would probably feel overly-dramatic to Penny. "Who does Penny ever like? Besides you and Jane, anyway."

And Quentin, but Penny would hate it if Quentin went around saying that out loud.

"Do you ever think about Earth?" Julia asked. "I feel like I should miss it, you know? Our lives here don't have so many of the things we always thought we needed when we were young. And for a while, I did miss it all, but I barely even think of it these days. Everything we left behind."

"We left it behind for a reason," Quentin said, firmly. "I don't- I know Jane will want to visit some day, but apart from that, I… Earth was a lifetime ago, Jules."

"Yeah," she agreed, on a sigh. She kissed his cheek and then heaved herself out of the bed. "I should probably go over there tomorrow. Say hello."

"I'm giving a tour of the town in the morning," Quentin said, resolutely not letting himself blush. "I'll bring him by your place."

"Did he ask or did you offer?" Julia asked, eyebrows going up a little in surprise and — hey, just because he wasn't the most social person in the universe didn't mean he failed to understand basic courtesy.

"He's never been here before," Quentin said. "Never even been to Fillory before. So, I said I'd show him around. It isn't a big deal."

"Q…" Julia looked at his face, then nodded. "Okay. Not a big deal. Got it."

She obviously didn't believe him, but that was fine. Quentin wouldn't let it be a big deal.

After Julia left, he went to Jane's room, tucked her blankets in around her. Like him, she often thrashed around in her sleep but, unlike him, it never seemed to wake her up.

On her small desk, there was one of Fen's hand-copied Janie books… and the letter from her mother, all flattened out, like she'd had to read it one more time before going to sleep.

Quentin could still remember the summer Poppy had blown into Fillory, all fire-red curls and sharp needling comments and a wide infectious smile that made him want to forget that she'd never planned on staying. Eliot didn't look a thing like Poppy, but his flirting today had… struck a chord. Or maybe a nerve.

Like Poppy, Eliot was too exciting for Fillory to contain. But while Poppy was made for the vast unknown planets and uncounted stars in the wider galaxies, Quentin thought Eliot might be… city lights and high fashion and… parties, probably.

Tall and handsome, though, that was certain. Cleft chin and dark curls and that outfit like something out of a movie about a British boarding school from a century ago. At least his boots had been reasonable for a hike.

He had light brown eyes, maybe. Quentin wasn't always great at eye contact, so he wasn't certain. They'd laughed a lot, though, those eyes, just not in a way that made Quentin feel like the butt of the joke.

Quentin shook the feeling off, drew up some water and made himself tea. They didn't have the kind of medication here that he'd taken back home, but there was an herbal mixture Fen made up for him that helped keep him level. And it was better than the idea of going back to Earth.

It had been… a long time since he'd had sex with someone. Not since Poppy. Not that Eliot had said anything so direct as…

But he'd said _enough_ that Quentin thought it might be a possibility and he felt…

Conflicted, maybe.

Eliot was a reminder, though, that Earth wasn't all bad.

**New York City, Earth**

Fen looked over the city, very aware of Margo next to her. Her mouth still felt tender inside from one of the spicy items she'd sampled and it was uncomfortable but… kind of enjoyable at the same time. Earth food came in so many varieties, though Fen wasn't sure she'd ever remember the names for all of them.

And so did Earth people. Fen had never ventured much beyond Kilnsworth before, and coming this far made her understand Poppy's wanderlust a bit better, perhaps.

"It's not great timing," Margo said. She played with her bracelets, shrugged. "Most publishing houses won't be taking submissions now. It's the holidays."

"Winter ones," Fen guessed, from the familiar chill in the air. "We have one too, this month. Umbermoon. Two weeks of preparation and then an all-night festival under the light of the moons. But I promised to be back home by then. This is a… a scouting trip." She sighed, because she found that she didn't want to lie to Margo. "Well, the timing is more because-"

"Of your ex?"

"Yeah," Fen agreed. "I just found out he's engaged and it cut me more deeply than I… I assumed we'd come back together. We always have before. But this time, he moved on and I didn't even notice it was happening until it was too late."

Fen touched her empty finger in the place where Rafe had been wearing Abigail's ring.

"He didn't tell me," she said, more softly.

Margo stayed quiet for a while and then said, "You weren't together anymore."

"But he owed me-"

"He didn't," Margo said. Fen glared over at her indignantly. Margo raised an eyebrow. "How long ago did the two of you break up?"

Fen looked away and she could feel an embarrassed heat steal across her cheeks. "Oh... a few months."

"Honey, I like you, but that boy doesn't owe you a damn thing," Margo said, her voice firm but not sharp. Fen pressed her lips together tightly, startled when Margo's hand touched her arm. "He doesn't have to ask your permission to move on."

Fen huffed out a frustrated breath but conceded, "I know that. I just… I didn't realize how much distance was between us now. We've been mostly together since we were teenagers, before I ever-" She shook her head. "You're right."

Margo patted her arm and it did make her feel better — she couldn't feel the warmth of Margo's skin through her shirt but she could feel the comforting pressure of her fingertips. "I'll take you shopping tomorrow."

She'd said that earlier, too, and this time, Fen protested, "I don't have any of the money you use here."

Margo waved away the objection. "Please, it won't make a dent in what I spend on myself."

"The clothes you wear are expensive," Fen said, and it was reassuring to know that for certain, truly. Margo dressed in bright, vivid colors that were so unlike Fen's own faded earth tones. Still, many people wore clothing much more colorful than Fen's own, so it hadn't been certain. "I only need a few items for my stay here. When I've figured out how to earn some Earth money from my books, I can pay you back."

"If you want to," Margo agreed.

They spent a while longer outside, though it was cold enough to show their breath as they spoke. Margo enjoyed talking, that much was clear, and she knew a great deal about Earth and New York. But she also liked asking questions, and she asked many about Fillory, which Fen answered as best she could. She wasn't much of a traveler and wasn't sure how helpful she truly was, but Margo seemed pleased at most of her answers.

It was a pleasant way to spend an evening.

**Kilnsworth Creek, Fillory**

Eliot woke up slowly, in a gentle wash of light from the curtained window.

His sleep had been dreamless, and the ache of Mike's words stung less here. Margo had been right that distance would help — she usually was right about these things.

Fen's bed was small enough that Eliot only just barely fit on it, his feet threatening to stick out from under the covers. Still, he'd slept well enough on it, not waking to any aches or pains. His face was cold, though, so Quentin's domestic magic didn't extend to providing central heating. Eliot did a quick personal warming charm and then swung his legs out of bed, onto the handwoven rug laying on the floor.

He heard sounds outside the window. Quentin, probably. Eliot peeked through the curtains but saw only fields and the edge of the forest. Ah, the sounds were coming from around the corner of the house.

Eliot got dressed — no vest or tie today, but he made sure to pull on his winter coat — and headed out.

Quentin wasn't hard to find. He was levitating a bucket and carefully watering the plants hanging from the eaves.

"I could lend a hand," Eliot offered and then had to prove it when Quentin turned abruptly towards him, losing his grip on his telekinesis. Eliot grabbed the bucket with his own magic before too much had spilled. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

"You're fine," Quentin said, blinking at Eliot rapidly. In the sunlight, he was even prettier than he'd been last night — clean-shaven and pink-cheeked. His hair was down, long enough to go just past his shoulders, long enough that Eliot could easily bury his hands in it. "I knew you were here. I just got- distracted, I guess. I brought breakfast. It's on the table."

Quentin had already eaten at home, he told Eliot, and that was more than fine, since it meant Quentin talked and Eliot got to listen. Sometime between last night and this morning, Quentin must have realized that Eliot genuinely liked hearing him talk, because he didn't cut off his words the way he had before.

All Eliot needed to do was ask an occasional question, and Quentin would give him back an entire essay's worth of a response. But in a much more enjoyable way than actually reading an essay would be.

"I'm glad I didn't need to walk further," Eliot mentioned. "Lucky for me that this is the closest village to the portal."

"Oh, that- that wasn't luck," Quentin said. Eliot hmm'd curiously. Quentin nodded, fingers spread wide. "Fen knew about Earth because-" There was a moment of hesitation and then- "-she knows people from Earth."

"Like you," Eliot said, encouragingly. He hadn't planned on prying but it didn't count if Quentin was _volunteering_ the information.

"Yeah," Quentin agreed. "This was the first place we found after we got to Fillory and- and it was nice enough that we ended up. Um. Never leaving." He shrugged.

"You and Penny?" Eliot asked.

"And my friend Julia too," Quentin said. He smiled at Eliot — small, mouth closed but his expression warm enough to crinkle up the corners of his eyes. "I'll introduce you to her on our tour."

"I'd like that," Eliot said, sincerely. He decided to risk pushing just a little. "What made you like Kilnsworth Creek enough to stay?"

Quentin's eyes lit up — this was a passionate topic for him, then. Eliot sat up a little straighter in anticipation.

"This is gonna make me sound like a dork," Quentin warned, as if that could possibly be a bad thing. "But, in a lot of ways, living here is… is like fulfilling some of my childhood dreams. I'm not- Earth wasn't really a place that was all that- all that great for me. After my dad- he passed away. And I didn't really have any reason to stick around. So, Julia and I… we knew about magic-"

"Who told you?" Eliot asked. He hadn't meant to interrupt but Quentin didn't seem to hold it against him.

"I had a teacher… she told me about magic. She gave me-" Quentin mimed holding something small. "Gave me a button in a box. Said if I ever needed to really escape, it would take me somewhere far away."

Magic often _was_ born during traumatic life experiences. But it really would be prying to ask why a teacher would think one of her students might need to escape his own life that badly. "It took you here." But Quentin shook his head and, oh, of course. Eliot suggested, "The Neitherlands?"

"Yeah, that's when Julia and I met Penny. One of the guardians there — one of the Librarians — was trying to recruit him. He decided he'd rather go with us." Quentin laughed, and it was a deeper sound than Eliot had been expecting. "Well, mostly because he fell in love with Julia the second they meant."

"Ah, so _that's_ why he was immune to my charms," Eliot said, mostly joking. "Already in love. How long ago…?"

"A lifetime, it feels like," Quentin said, then his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Fifteen years, I think? Almost half my life."

He'd been right about Quentin's age, then. Early thirties.

"You don't miss-" there were so many things about Earth that Eliot would miss if he left forever. But he wasn't sure how many of his interests overlapped with Quentin's. Given what he'd talked about earlier, though… "-movies or tv or the internet?"

"I did, at first," Quentin said. "But then I- my life here became so full. It's kind of funny, really. There are so many people on Earth, so much to watch and do, but I isolated myself a lot more there than I do here."

Quentin pulled one of his legs up onto the kitchen chair and wrapped his arms around it.

"On Earth, sometimes it felt like all I could ever do was break things and here, I can-" Quentin's eyes flicked towards Eliot's and then away again. "This world is… smaller and slower than Earth, in a lot of ways, but it's also a place where I can-" his mouth twisted. "Where I can fix things, too, I suppose."

"That makes sense," Eliot said, which earned him another smile. And it did. It wasn't the way things worked for him, but he understood that his own coping mechanisms — drugs and parties and sex — weren't for everyone.

Maybe they weren't even for him anymore, since he was here in the actual countryside rather than running off to Paris or Ibiza or somewhere like that. Though he supposed that Margo deserved most of the credit.

They'd both changed over the last year, though, as they'd established the retreat. They'd settled down, locked themselves into one place and made it home.

So maybe he wasn't so different from Quentin after all.

**New York City, Earth**

There was a long table with magically replenishing platters of food for breakfast. Fen studied the line of people going along and picking out their meals. She didn't see Margo but-

There was another woman, warm-toned skin and long curly hair.

Fen was discovering a whole new world of interest, here on Earth. Last night, after Margo brought her back from their meal on the elevated park, she'd sat Fen down in front of a box she'd unfolded and called a 'computer' and introduced her to the 'internet'.

She hadn't understood most of Margo's explanation for what the internet did, but she'd learned that she could ask it questions by pressing on representations of the English alphabet and moving an odd device that matched up with a tiny arrow on the screen.

Fen had started with the basics: best places to eat, nearest places to purchase or sharpen knives, and, of course, local book publishers.

After Margo had left, Fen had, hesitantly, asked a different sort of question.

She was vaguely aware that attraction was complicated. Her own parents were like Julia and Penny — steadfast and devoted to each other — but she'd witnessed all the painful, messy fallout from Quentin and Poppy's relationship first-hand. She'd thought herself lucky, to have such an easy love herself. She'd thought that her feelings for Rafe had been like her parents' too.

She suspected now that she was entirely wrong.

Fen had asked the internet, asked google, 'what does it mean to feel fluttery inside when you look at someone?' and there had been two main suggestions: heart palpitations caused by a variety of things that didn't seem to apply… or infatuation.

But if this was how infatuation… how a crush felt, then what did it mean that she'd never felt that way about Rafe?

Further investigation led to some interesting results from the internet and-

-and, well, this moment where she stared at a woman who had hair a little like Margo's.

If she was… if she really was attracted to Margo, then she truly did have the worst luck. Margo was very firmly in a relationship and thus very much not available.

Though, even if Margo were single, would it even be sensible to try to win her over? They lived in two different worlds, literally.

Fen sighed and went to get herself breakfast.

She hovered in front of the drinks uncertainly.

"Hey, princess, shift away from the coffee. I need it."

Fen moved, responding to the clear tone of authority — it was the curly-haired woman. "Which one's the coffee?" Fen asked, which earned her a sideways glance. Apologetically, she added, "I'm not from Earth."

"Oh, an alien princess, sure," the woman said, soundly vaguely mocking. "The coffee is the dark brown one. Steaming hot. Great for waking you up."

While she talked, she busied herself with collecting two mugs of the coffee. The plates she'd had earlier were nowhere in sight.

"Thank you," Fen said, politely. "I'm Fen. Well met. What are you called?"

"Kady," she said. Then, she stepped away from the table, finished with the drinks — one of which was still almost pitch-black but the other a pale brown that she'd put in a lot of what Fen was hoping was sugar and not salt. Though even for sugar, it had seemed excessive.

"Yep. See you around," Kady said, and then she was muscling her way back out of the line with her mugs. Fen felt a little forlorn, watching her go, but even that brief conversation had been enough to confirm her suspicions. It wasn't just an odd blip from last night. She had strange twisting weird feelings when she looked at some of the women here that she'd never felt when looking at Rafe.

While she was thinking that over, there was a crash as-

-as a bunny appeared over the drinks table, knocking over the pitcher of water and spilling it onto the floor. Fen hastily righted it, blushing. It filled itself up again as she watched.

"HEY, YOU ALIVE?" The bunny — oh, it was Filbert — rasped out, annoyed. "HEY, YOU ALIVE?"

"Sorry!" Fen squeaked out, to Filbert and everyone else. "Tell my brother: _safe arrival, apologies. Distracted_." Filbert disappeared again and everyone was definitely staring at her now. She sidled out of the way as some of Margo's people came over and cleaned up the water.

Once they left, she poured herself a mug of that coffee drink and gave it an experimental taste. Ugh, bitter. Powerfully bitter.

Still, she'd gotten it, so she would make herself finish it. Fen picked up her plate, heaping with crisped slices of meat and cooked eggs and one lone fruit that was apparently called a banana.

She walked towards the cluster of tables and heard someone ask, "Where did the rabbit go?"

It was a pale woman with straight blonde hair and glasses with thick frames, sitting at the same table as Kady. The mug of heavily-sugared coffee was in front of her, along with a plate of food.

"Back home," Fen said. The blonde woman patted the empty space on the table next to her, so Fen set down her plate and took a seat. "My brother was worried. I've never been to Earth before."

"So, where _are_ you from, alien princess?" Kady asked, but her voice wasn't as sharp as it had been a few moments ago.

"My name is Fen," she said, since apparently Kady hadn't been paying attention the first time. "I'm from Fillory."

"Oh, that's where Eliot went," the blonde woman said. Then she added, "I'm Alice and this is Kady."

"I told her my name already," Kady said, sounding a touch grumpy. "But I'm curious, too. Bunnies talk in Fillory? Where is that, exactly?"

"It's a world connected to the Neitherlands," Fen said. "Many animals talk in Fillory."

"The Neitherlands," Kady repeated, thoughtfully. "Why does that sound familiar?"

"It's where those Librarians were from," Alice said. She reached up and adjusted the frame of her glasses. "The ones that offered us that job."

"Right." Kady's hand landed on Alice's forearm, her thumb stroking against the skin. _Oh_. "Those contracts looked like a nightmare."

"The Librarians watch over the Neitherlands," Fen confirmed. She hadn't thought of them having any kind of recruitment process, though of course they did. New Librarians had to come from somewhere. "And help guide people between worlds." 

Breakfast with Alice and Kady was educational, though it _was_ somewhat disappointing that the second person she'd been attracted to after Rafe was also in a relationship. Fen had the worst kind of luck, it seemed.

After breakfast, Fen started back up to Eliot's room, to do some more internet exploring to try to locate publishers that might be open during Earth winter holidays, but halfway up the stairs, Margo found her and took her by the arm.

“Ready for a tour?”

**Kilnsworth Creek, Fillory**

Quentin couldn't pretend he didn't notice.

Eliot was definitely flirting with him. It wasn't just friendliness – Quentin had introduced Eliot to many people during their tour of Kilnsworth, and Eliot was friendly to all of them but not... not in quite the same way. Definitely either gay or with a very strong leaning towards being attracted to men, judging by the looks he gave people, but they were, for the most part, just looks.

Eliot, though, was only going to be here for two weeks. So any kind of flirtation was... more in line with a holiday fling than anything serious. Flirting, kissing, maybe – probably – sex.

It had been a while since Quentin had done any of those things and he hadn't really been tempted to seek any of it out but Eliot was-

-captivating, really. He had curls that begged to be touched and making him smile made Quentin's chest tight and-

Quentin wasn't alone in this, so that meant he couldn't let himself get swept up in the romance of the moment. He had to think about Jane and how his choices would affect her. If he really was going to have a fling, or even the potential of one, with some guy that he'd never see again, he needed to make sure it wouldn't be something that could hurt his daughter. Which meant, as they walked around, Quentin carefully avoided the part of town that housed the village school, where he'd dropped Jane off that morning before going over to see Eliot again.

“It's not that big,” he said, apologetically. He'd visited Eliot's New York City a few times, when he'd been a kid, and he could still remember how overwhelmed he'd felt – all those people, and his brain trying to convince him that every single one of them was judging him and finding him wanting.

“Makes for a nice change,” Eliot said, with a smile. “Bigger isn't always better.”

The words themselves weren't terribly suggestive but the look that accompanied them made Quentin blush. Searching for a distraction, he realized that they were close to Julia and Penny's book store.

The store was almost empty, which was common enough, especially in the middle of the morning when most people were working at their various trades. Julia was working, too, sitting behind the counter and making notes about a spell. She'd started work on a more reliable inter-dimensional communication spell once Fen had decided to visit Earth, and from the look on her face, she was finding it fascinating.

“Jules, you wanna say 'hi' to our guest from Earth?” Quentin asked, tugging Eliot over by the wrist. “Eliot, this is my friend Julia.”

“One of the friends who came from Earth with you,” Eliot said, thoughtfully. He was looking at her spell equations, too, with a critical eye. He'd gone to that school – Brakebills – actually learned magic an official way, rather than one year of unofficial teaching in high school and then figuring it out on their own, like Quentin and Julia.

He wondered what the differences were. He hadn't seen Eliot do any magic yet, but he could still remember the elegance of Ms. Chatwin's hand motions as she'd taught him and Julia tiny spells to test their potential. She'd known so many more languages than he'd ever dreamed anyone could learn. Was that normal, too, for officially trained Magicians?

“Oh, you're a tall one,” Julia said, amused. “No wonder Penny didn't like you. He hates it when people are taller than him. You should see him around the centaurs.”

“I heard that,” Penny said as he came out of the back room and leaned next to Julia on the counter. “It's not my fault all centaurs are assholes.”

Julia gave an eloquent shrug. _See what I mean_ , it implied.

“It's good to meet you, Eliot,” she said, more politely. “It's been a couple of years since we talked to anyone else from Earth.” She didn't grimace at the thought of Poppy but Quentin heard enough in her tone to give her a warning glare. “Q's been showing you around?”

“He's an excellent tour guide,” Eliot said, the open fondness in his voice making it hard for Quentin not to blush, his hand resting on Quentin's back now, warm and strong. “I feel like I've learned so much.” It sounded mostly sincere, so Quentin decided to take it that way.

“Yeah, Coldwater can talk your ear off if you let him,” Penny said, and he was staring suspiciously at Eliot's hand, so Quentin shifted his glare over to Penny instead. He appreciated Penny showing that he cared, but it could be... annoying.

“I don't mind,” Eliot said. “Everything's more enjoyable with company.”

“Yeah, I bet.” Penny tapped on the counter, then sighed, touching his belt. The little badge he wore there was pulsing, Quentin could see, letting Penny know he had a message to deliver from Whitespire. “Ugh, duty calls.” He pressed a quick kiss against Julia's temple. “See you soon.”

Then he was gone.

“He do that a lot?” Eliot asked.

“Oh, Penny works for the government, delivering notices and messages,” Julia explained. “He's kinda always on call.”

“That could be inconvenient,” Eliot said. “At certain times.”

“He doesn't wear the belt in bed,” Julia said, with a startled laugh. “Oh, I see why Q likes you.”

“ _Jules_ ,” Quentin hissed, and Eliot's hand on his back lifted slightly, then firmed again. Julia made innocent eyes at Quentin – had Fen talked to her before she left? “This isn't a high school dance.”

Julia just laughed at him. Quentin glanced over at Eliot, who wasn't laughing, but he was smiling, eyes intent. Quentin flushed.

“I should take you back to Fen's,” Quentin said, because he needed to get Julia and Eliot away from each other before Julia made things even more embarrassing. Though at least she didn't have access to any of his baby pictures anymore, thank fucking christ. “Um. There are still some enchantments on the house that I should key into you.”

Eliot let himself be pulled back out of the shop, and once they were headed back towards the cottage, he said, “You and Julia really _have_ been friends for a long time.”

“Most of our lives,” Quentin agreed. “I guess it's pretty obvious. She's basically- she's not technically my sister the way Fen is, she didn't get adopted into Fen's family, but she's been like my sister for most of our lives.”

“The family we choose can be just as important as blood,” Eliot said, and there was a hint of melancholy in his voice that meant there was a story there, but Quentin didn't want to push.

“Absolutely,” Quentin agreed, which earned him a brilliant smile from Eliot, but it was nothing but the truth. Julia and Fen and Penny were just as much his family as Jane was. More his family, honestly, than it had ever felt like his own mom had been. “You liked her, then?”

“Julia? Of course,” Eliot said. He tapped his fingers against the small of Quentin's back, thoughtfully. “She was charming.” He seemed distracted though – maybe thinking of his own chosen family, back on Earth.

“Homesick?” Quentin asked, realizing faintly how much he was hoping for a 'no'.

Eliot huffed out a laugh. “Not exactly, though knowing how far I am from home is... strange. But this place reminds me of- not the people, but the... the smallness of it. It reminds me of-” The corner of his mouth dipped into a brief frown before lifting up again. “I'm not sure if it's a good idea to stay, honestly.” But his hand was still on Quentin's back.

Despite how much he'd warned himself earlier not to get attached, his chest felt tight and cold at Eliot's words, at the idea of Eliot leaving already. He spoke almost without meaning to- “There's a dance in the town hall tonight.” A dance that Quentin literally never went to, had never gone to in all his years of living here, because he hated dances. “You should stay for that, at least.”

Eliot made a considering noise and Quentin thought about taking the words back but-

“I'll think about it,” Eliot said.

So apparently Quentin was going to... go to a dance.

Fuck, he was gonna need to ask Julia to babysit.

She would definitely laugh at him again.

**New York City, Earth**

Fen touched her hair softly. It felt strange – light and fluffy and new. Margo watched her and she seemed nervous, so Fen said, reassuringly, “I like it.”

She shook her head, feeling the soft strands dance around her face. Her hair hadn't been this short since she was a child too young to remember, but it... it looked nice, with the Earth clothing that Margo had helped her pick out.

Her face looked different with her hair falling around it, short enough that the bottom of the strands only hit her chin. _She_ looked different, in pants and a soft winter sweater and boots. She looked like a normal Earth woman.

Fen still wasn't sure if this could all be as inexpensive as Margo kept saying that it was, but Margo seemed to enjoy picking out clothes for her to try on, and Fen enjoyed watching Margo smile, even if she _did_ have a masterchef boyfriend in a far-off land. She could still like Margo's smile.

“You have killer bone structure,” Margo said. “This cut brings it out.” She reached out and ruffled Fen's hair – shorter than Quentin's now, though not as short as Penny's – and she studied Fen's face. “How do you have perfect fucking skin living in the wilderness?”

“I wash my face every day,” Fen volunteered, helpfully. “No matter what.”

“You wash your face,” Margo said, flatly. “Oh my god, fuck you.” But she didn't actually seem genuinely angry, so Fen just smiled at her. “Seriously, you don't need any foundation or concealer. I hate you.”

Fen had known Penny Adiyodi for near on fifteen years now, so she was very aware of how a person could say they hate someone or something while actually not hating it at all. Still, she did point out, “Your face is lovely as well.” Which was almost certainly too forward, so she added, “I'm sure your boyfriend tells you that all that time.”

“Of course, yeah,” Margo agreed, looking away.

Fen _had_ been too forward.

She wasn't sure how to fix it.

“I haven't had any luck with publishers,” she said, just to get Margo to think about something other than how Fen had overstepped. “You're right. Everyone is closed for your winter holidays.”

“Well, I guess you'll have to come back again next year,” Margo said, cheerfully, so Fen was forgiven, perhaps. She'd take it, certainly.

When they returned to the retreat, Filbert was waiting out in the large common area again, eating some lettuce on a breakfast table. When he saw her, he croaked out, “IT'S ELIOT. PRIVATE CHAT?”

Fen blinked a bit, then picked up the bunny and said a brief goodbye to Margo. Once upstairs in Eliot's room, she set Filbert down on the bed and said, “We're alone now.”

Filbert disappeared.

Fen took the time while he was gone to start putting away the clothes that Margo had purchased for her. Mostly pants – 'jeans' – and shirts, but there was one shorter dress that Margo had insisted she had to get.

Filbert popped back in, “GOING TO DANCE TONIGHT.”

Oh! It would be time for the first dance of Umbermoon. The days before the festival were full of all kinds of treats, but the dances were one of Fen's favorites. She sat down on the bed, said, “Oh, good! Enjoy yourself!”

A moment later, Filbert returned, “FUN TIME AFTER DANCE?”

Fen wrinkled her nose, confused. “Fun time during dance?” she ventured.

“YES, BUT ALSO AFTER?”

Okay. Fen thought about that for a while, petting Filbert on the head, respectfully. Eliot wanted to know something fun to do _after_ the dance. Hmm, that was... “Alone, two, or group?” she asked, lifting up her hand so Filbert could leave.

He returned after a quick pause. “TWO.”

Eliot certainly moved quickly. Well, given how little time it had taken for her to develop tiny crushes on the pretty people here on Earth, she couldn't blame him. “Hedgerow maze. Romantic.”

“THANKS! GOING WELL?”

“Yes. It's lovely here,” Fen said. Technically, she wasn't getting much done on her actual goal. The timing had been terrible for that. But she couldn't be sad that none of her Earth friends had realized that ahead of time. She _was_ enjoying herself.

She was enjoying herself quite a lot.

**Kilnsworth Creek, Fillory**

Quentin had pointed it out on the way back to Fen's cottage, almost casually. _That's where I work. I repair things. Mostly small things._ Casual, but he'd sounded proud of himself too.

After Eliot's conversation with Fen via bunny, he made his way down the lane and headed towards Quentin's repair shop. Once he got closer, he could feel a gentle hum of magic around the building — not quite a 'keep away' spell, more like a 'be careful' spell that encouraged him to move slowly. Cautiously, he tapped at the door and then poked his head inside.

Generally speaking, Eliot didn't tend to think too highly of hedge witches and other self-taught practitioners. There was an elegance to the way a Magician was taught to cast at Brakebills and other places like it.

Quentin's magic lacked sophistication, true, but it was… soft around the edges, in a way Eliot wasn't used to seeing from hedges. He'd noticed at Fen's cottage, too, how Quentin's spells felt almost rounded off, all gentle curves and as plush as a down pillow.

It felt tangible, physical.

Quentin was almost the same age as Eliot. If he'd gone to Brakebills, if he'd stayed on Earth, they might have met years ago, under very different circumstances. What would Quentin's magic look like if it had been shaped by an official course of training, rather than catch-as-can self-study methods?

He didn't appear to be repairing something right now — he was building something from scrap metal, it looked like, using his magic rather than fine tools. A clockwork toy. Maybe a special commission.

"You're good at that," Eliot said, keeping his voice gentle. Quentin startled anyway, but he relaxed again when he saw that it was Eliot, which was a nice reaction to get. "Is that a toy soldier?

Quentin shook his head, but gave Eliot a small smile. "An explorer."

It was still mostly an outline but looking at it with that information, it was easy enough to see — no armor, but the beginnings of a backpack. And that pole wasn't a weapon, then, but a walking stick. "Clever," Eliot said. "Is Umbermoon like Christmas? Are there gifts?"

Quentin shook his head. "Not normally, but it's become a tradition in Kilnsworth Creek, thanks to us."

There was a counter nearby that was clear, so Eliot perched up on it. "We decorated for all the winter holidays, back home, but I'd love to learn a new one."

"It's a celebration of when Umber — he's one of the twin ram gods of Fillory — granted the petition of the council for Fillorian independence." And so Quentin explained about how democracy had been born in Fillory, demanded from the gods themselves. Umber was the one who'd relented, so the existing festival of midwinter had been renamed in his honor. "He says he did it to finally get one over on his brother, but I think maybe he was just doing the right thing."

Quentin kept working on the little clockwork toy as they spoke, and it was fascinating to watch it take shape under his hands and his magic. He was passionate about Fillorian history, about the depth of his love for this place and its people. It was a joy to watch how his face lit up as he spoke.

After a while, Quentin stopped himself and gave Eliot an apologetic look. "I didn't mean to go on like that," he said. "You can- I won't be insulted if you tell me to shut up sometimes. Um, I'd love to hear more about your business. A retreat, you said? But it's in New York."

"Well, you know, magic," Eliot said, wiggling his fingers a little, which made Quentin smile. But thinking about New York reminded him inevitably of Mike. "And I don't mind it when you talk, Q." He tasted the feel of the nickname on his tongue. It suited Quentin very much. "I love The Flying Forest but I'm wondering if I didn't focus on it too much, lose sight of everything else."

"Owning your own business is a lot of work," Quentin said, with big, earnest eyes. "It's different in Fillory, less complicated, but even having this tiny place of mine fills up my days."

"Thanks," Eliot said, and it was comforting to have someone understand, even just a bit. "You asked earlier today if I was homesick and I'm not, but I _do_ miss my best friend. She and I… we run the retreat together so there's no way we could have both gone on vacation at the same time but… I miss her."

Quentin nodded and, yeah, he'd taken his best friend with him when he'd left Earth, so maybe he really did understand that, too.

"Tell me about her," Quentin said.

So Eliot did. He told Quentin about her temper and her humor and her exquisite taste in all things. Except boyfriends. He told Quentin how he'd met her in Brakebills and — seeing the way mention of Brakebills made Quentin perk up and tilt towards him more as he worked — Eliot told Quentin about classes and the Physical Cottage.

"I think I spent most of my time there either throwing parties or recovering from them," Eliot confessed, which made Quentin laugh.

"We don't have that in common," Quentin said. "Back on Earth, my M.O. during parties was to find an empty bedroom and either read a book or fuck around on my phone until I could find a chance to escape."

"That's a valid life choice," Eliot said, a warm glow settling over his chest as he remembered that Quentin had confessed to being a fantasy nerd before coming to Fillory, hadn't he? "I haven't thrown too many parties, in recent days."

"Or, if you look at it another way, your whole business is one very long party that never stops," Quentin offered. He'd finished the toy a while back but hadn't started anything new, and was just sitting in the middle of his work table, knees drawn up.

"Hmm, I like it," Eliot said, because it was much too soon to say the other words that wanted to escape.

**New York City, Earth**

Margo flipped to the next page, squished down comfortably on El's bed while Fen explored the internet some more.

She'd tried not to have any expectations when she'd asked if she could read one of Fen's stories, but it turned out she didn't need to worry. They were fucking charming. Janie Waters was a clever protagonist, spurred on by curiosity and the thrill of the unknown. The narrative voice was clear but not overwhelming. The wording had some interesting translation artifacts but had a pleasing rhythm nonetheless. On the whole-

"I love this," Margo said, waving the book in Fen's direction. "How many of these have you written?"

"Oh, twenty or so," Fen said, twisting around in the chair and looking over. "I mean… they started as- as stories I was telling my niece. Her name is Jane and she's, well…"

"Clever and curious," Margo offered, with a grin.

"Very much so," Fen confirmed. "She loved the stories so much that she was telling them again to her friends, so my brother suggested I write them down. That was a couple of years ago."

"Twenty books in only a couple of years is pretty impressive," Margo said.

Fen laughed. "They are fairly short."

"Still." Margo thought for a moment. "You could put several of them together to make a longer story. Those sell better, a lot of the time."

"I am certainly taking suggestions," Fen said, getting up and sitting down next to Margo on the bed. "I know nothing about Earth publishing except what my friends could remember."

Fen really did have unfairly perfect skin, for someone with no skin care regimen to speak of. And even with her haircut and wardrobe change, there was still an air about her that made her feel not quite of this world.

Margo dug her toes into the plush blanket on El's bed. He'd only been gone two days and she missed him like a hole in her heart. Margo had spent her childhood surrounded by shallow friends who liked her for her money or flattered her to stay off the rough side of her tongue. She hadn't had a real friend, someone she could truly trust, until she'd come to Brakebills and met Eliot. They'd spent time apart before, of course, but he'd never been a world away.

"What did El want to talk to you about earlier?" she asked Fen. Margo didn't really want to communicate with Eliot through bunnies — she missed his voice and his stupid pretty face — but a tiny part of her was maybe hurt he'd wanted to talk to Fen but not her.

"He was wondering where to take someone for special alone time," Fen said, archly. "It's pretty impressive, isn't it, that he's already met someone he likes? He didn't say who it was."

"Who he was," Margo corrected, watching Fen's reaction carefully. She liked Fen well enough, but the travelogue had been light on details about the social mores of modern-day Fillory, though it had mentioned that — in the times of royalty — kings and queens could have both a husband and a wife.

She held in a sigh of relief when Fen just nodded and then kept talking. "There's a dance tonight and then I suggested Eliot take him to the hedgerow maze afterwards. There's a fountain and a bench in the center and it's very romantic." Fen looked wistful, so Margo guessed she'd taken that ex-boyfriend of hers there a time or two.

"He could use some romance, even if it is short-term," Margo said. She didn't plan to spill too much of Eliot's personal business, so she left it at that.

"I know the feeling," Fen said, properly gloomy now, which hadn't been Margo's intention. Eliot had asked her to be nice to the girl, damn it. She wasn't going to let him down. But then Fen shook her head and put on a smile that looked mostly genuine. "Does your boyfriend live here too?"

"Ha," Margo said dryly. "Honestly, he's barely even seen the retreat. Downsides of having a successful guy, I suppose. I used to travel along with him more but… I like it here. I like this place that Eliot and I built together."

"Why doesn't he just work here?" Fen asked, quietly. "It sounds like you miss him and he could cook for the retreat."

"Not his dream," Margo said and the worst part, really, was that she couldn't even be mad at him for it. "Never was. I'm the one who changed. Not him. Josh is still- he's still the exact same guy he was the first time I hooked up with him. We both wanted to live in one big party — Eliot, too — but I-" Margo sighed. "I like having a home."

"Sounds like you aren't compatible anymore," Fen said, then flushed brightly. "Oh, Ember's backside! That was much too- I'm sorry!"

Fen was up and off the bed, fumbling out more apologies as she fled the room. Forgetting, maybe, that _this_ was where she was staying.

Margo watched her go, amused, then wrote out a quick little note explaining that she was borrowing the books to read through.

She collected them and headed over to her own room so that when Fen did come back, she'd be able to be embarrassed in peace. Hopefully, Fen wouldn't take it too much to heart. She wasn't saying anything that Margo herself hadn't been wondering more and more as this last year had gone by. Maybe she and Josh _had_ grown apart. Maybe it was okay to admit that.

Maybe it was a bit easier to admit it when Eliot wasn't here.

Margo pulled out the next Janie book — Janie Waters and the Watch of Time — and settled in to read. Janie had a companion in this story, a centaur friend with a dour outlook that reminded Margo of Eeyore. He was constantly predicting disaster, and the disasters were only avoided by some quick-witted thinking on Janie's part. Fen's niece must be quite a strong-willed girl. And good for her, Margo thought idly. Hopefully, she wouldn't lose that when she got older.

About halfway through the book, her mirror sparkled. Josh was finally getting back to her. Margo glanced up at the mirror and then back down at the book.

Well, he'd made her wait. It could be his turn to wait now. She had a book to finish.

**Kilnsworth Creek, Fillory**

Quentin smoothed down his shirt, already half-regretting his choice to come. It was… crowded. The large hall the town used for dances was just about full up, with most everyone in Kilnsworth who wasn't a child mingling and dancing and having a good time.

He didn't see Eliot yet.

Quentin had never been a huge fan of either crowds or parties, and that hadn't changed when he'd relocated to Fillory. Maybe he should just… go home, spend time with his daughter. Let Penny have a chance… well, Penny hated parties too, for different reasons than Quentin.

He went and got himself something to drink. The alcohol on Fillory tasted terrible, as a general rule, but if he drank enough of it, he'd stop noticing.

The dance hall was decorated cheerily for Umbermoon, winter flowers hanging from the rafters with their delicate, vivid blooms. The band were strings and woodwinds, not quite the instruments he'd known on Earth but he'd long since gotten used to the slightly different tones.

Quentin nodded a faint greeting to people as they said 'hello' but otherwise managed to avoid conversation. Even in Kilnsworth, he could go off on tangents that bored his audience silly, after all.

Abigail clung to Rafe's shoulder as he spun in a circle. He looked… enraptured as he spoke to her, in a way that Quentin couldn't remember him ever looking when he was with Fen.

He held in a sigh.

Hopefully, her time away from Fillory would help Fen come to terms with Rafe moving on. Quentin knew from experience how useless it was to try to keep someone who didn't want to be kept. He only regretted that Fen'd had to learn the hard way too.

Quentin let out that sigh, looking down into his cup. How long should he wait before deciding Eliot wasn't coming?

He glanced up again and his heart skipped a beat.

It was as if thinking about Eliot had summoned him. Quentin swallowed, tried not to stare too obviously.

But, fuck, Eliot was a beautiful man.

He'd changed his clothes since Quentin had seen him that afternoon, and he looked like something out of a British period romance. Tight pants clung to long legs, with achingly high boots that also seemed skin-tight. He wore a pale shirt over it, mostly held in place by a dark blue vest, the sleeves puffing out. He'd done something to his hair to make it have sharper curls that hung over his forehead.

He was so completely out of Quentin's league in every possible way. So much so that Quentin had to question if that flirting earlier — what he'd thought had been flirting — had really happened or just been a fever dream Quentin's mind had invented for him.

Then Eliot saw him across the room and smiled.

Quentin blinked and smiled back as best he could manage and tried to control the thumping of his heart as Eliot walked over.

"Hey," he said, as soon as Eliot was close enough to hear him over the crowd. "You decided to stay after all?"

"I had incentive," Eliot said, his smile widening and his meaning unmistakable. Eliot had flirted with Quentin each time they'd met so far, but it still made Quentin's breathing unsteady. "I don't know the dances here. Show me?"

Quentin… technically knew all the dances. Fen had insisted on teaching him, too, along with Julia and Penny. But he'd never danced any of them in public.

"Um, right now, everyone's dancing the mifle," Quentin said, and the look Eliot gave him was hilarious. "It comes from the Lorian language, actually. The Lorians are a neighboring-" he cut himself off, shook his head. "-anyway, the mifle is usually followed by a brizum, which is slower, so I could show you that one?"

"Sure," Eliot agreed, easily. Eliot made everything seem so much easier. Quentin bet he made a fantastic host for his retreat — the retreat that Eliot would be going home to just under than two weeks, Quentin reminded his heart sternly. "You can show me the brizum."

Quentin offered to get Eliot a drink, then apologized at the face Eliot made when he took a sip.

"For some reason, alcohol tastes funny here," he said, with a grimace. "I should've warned you."

"Well, hopefully the look on my face was funny enough to make it worthwhile," Eliot said. The music glided to a pause, so Eliot set down his glass and plucked Quentin's out of his hand to place it down, too. "Shall we?"

Quentin took Eliot's hand and led him out onto the dance floor. "It's fairly straightforward," he said. "Very- um. We approach each other and turn and there's, uh." He's taught Jane many things, but dancing was firmly under Fen's direction. He'd never needed to actually instruct anyone before.

"Don't worry, I won't get upset if people laugh at us for getting the steps wrong," Eliot said. "I have an extremely healthy self-image."

There wasn't much Quentin could say to _that_ , so he just nodded.

The dance started and- yes, there were some fumbles and missed steps. But there was also- Eliot's hand brushing against his waist and his hips, Eliot's eyes steady on his, the feel of Eliot's body close to his. It was… probably not a spectacular attempt, especially on Quentin's part, but it was surprisingly enjoyable. How many other things could Eliot make more enjoyable, just by being there?

After the brizum, there was a faster dance and Quentin had to give up halfway through, pulling Eliot out of the line with apologies.

"It's fine," Eliot said, airily. "Actually, maybe we could step outside and spend some time alone?"

Maybe Quentin should hesitate more. He barely knew Eliot. But it had been a long time since he'd talked with anyone the way he'd talked to Eliot today. A long time since he'd felt a spark like this with anyone.

"Yeah," he agreed, breathless already and he wished he could blame it on the dancing. "It started to snow earlier, do you have a coat?"

Eliot grinned. "We have something better," he said, then he added something in Latin, his fingers moving swiftly. Warmth spread out from him like an invisible fire, but not hot enough to burn. "Magic."

Quentin licked his lips, asked, "Can you show me that again, later?"

"As many times as you'd like," Eliot said, eyes hot like he was promising something else entirely. Snow drifted down as they walked outside, melting into nothing, not even water, as it hit Eliot's heated bubble.

Quentin reached out, feeling foolish and half his age, caught Eliot by the hand. "Did you-" he hesitated now, not sure where to offer as a destination. He certainly couldn't take Eliot home, and he couldn't imagine kissing Eliot in his sister's cottage either.

"I heard a rumor that there's a maze, with a private place at the center," Eliot said. Where had he-

"Yeah," Quentin agreed, not really wanting to think anymore tonight. "I could- I could show you that."

So he led Eliot in the direction of the hedgerow maze, the tops of the evergreen bushes dusted with snow. Quentin was more than familiar enough with the twists and turns, but he went slowly, enjoying Eliot's warm hand in his and the hushed night all around them.

When they got to the center, the fountain was bubbling away. There was old magic there, springtime magic, and the stone bench next to the fountain was bare of snow already.

Quentin let go of Eliot's hand, settled himself on the bench, one knee resting up underneath himself. Eliot straddled it, making his pants even tighter. Quentin swallowed and pulled his eyes away.

"What are our chances of staying alone?" Eliot asked. He put his hand on Quentin's knee and- should they talk about boundaries and pacing and-

Eliot would be gone in less than two weeks.

"Pretty good," Quentin said. Eliot's hand wasn't just warm, it was big, cupping almost the entirety of his kneecap. "I used to- um, most people will be at the dance for a while longer."

"You used to come here with someone else?" Eliot asked and he just sounded curious, so Quentin nodded.

"My, uh- my ex-wife," he said and part of him cringed, because not all people, even queer people were okay with- but Eliot just nodded thoughtfully.

"What's she like?" Eliot asked, rubbing at Quentin's knee. “If you're okay saying?”

"Funny," Quentin said, though it wasn't the first word that came to mind. But Quentin had never thought too highly of people who bashed their exes. "Adventurous. Too much to stay in a sleepy town like Kilnsworth Creek." He shrugged. "But I'd rather- uh. I'd rather not talk about her right now."

"That's fair," Eliot said, and his eyes weren't only light brown. There was maybe a hint of green, too. Hazel. Lovely. "I've had my own share of past romantic woes that I'd rather not dwell on, too."

Eliot leaned forward but stopped a little ways from Quentin. It was so warm, in this bubble of heated air Eliot had created, and he was probably the most beautiful guy Quentin had ever seen. As long as he remembered this was just a holiday fling for Eliot, it wouldn't be wrong to-

Quentin closed the distance, kissed Eliot hesitantly. It had been quite a long time since he'd kissed anyone, even longer since he'd kissed a guy.

His eyelids fluttered shut as he sank against Eliot's mouth. Eliot left a hand on Quentin's knee, but the other was lifting to cup Quentin's face, to slide around to the back of his neck so he could deepen the kiss.

Quentin brought his own hands up to clutch at Eliot's vest, feeling almost like he could bury himself against Eliot entirely. It wouldn't be a bad thing at all, really, because Eliot certainly knew how to kiss. Quentin found his lips parted as Eliot tugged him forward.

After the kiss broke, Eliot kissed along Quentin's jaw, nosed behind his ear. Quentin suppressed a shiver.

"Still cold?" Eliot asked, but it wasn't a serious question, Quentin could tell. Soft lips pressed against the side of his neck. "Let me warm you up."

It was cheesy. It was so cheesy. But Eliot's voice was low and throaty, and Quentin gasped instead of laughing.

"Yeah," he said, with about everything he had left. "Yeah."

Eliot nipped at his skin and- okay, Quentin didn't really want to have _that_ kind of conversation with his daughter later, so he said, in an embarrassingly breathy tone of voice, "No- uh- no biting, okay?"

There was a hum of acknowledgment and the pressure of Eliot's mouth lightened up. "You'd look pretty like that," Eliot commented. "So let me know if you change your mind."

"Maybe- maybe before you go home," Quentin said, loosening his grip so that he could stroke over Eliot's clothed chest. He could feel the firmness underneath. Eliot probably looked amazing naked. "We'll see- see how it goes."

There was something… freeing, if a bit sad, in kissing someone he knew for sure would leave. Quentin just had to make sure not to fool himself into thinking he could convince Eliot to stick around. He could enjoy this for what it was, not try to make-believe it was something else.

One of Eliot's hand stroked the back of Quentin's neck and his other hand slid inward, from Quentin's knee to his thigh.

"We're in public," Quentin said, reminding himself as much as Eliot. Even if they were in the middle of the maze, another enterprising couple might sneak out of the dance and end up here too. "We can't- um." He swallowed the rest, because his mind had just made several assumptions about Eliot that he didn't actually know if-

Eliot pulled back for a moment, and gave Quentin a surprisingly sweet smile. "I just want to kiss you for a while, Q." Every time he said Quentin's nickname it sounded like a secret, almost made him feel like he'd never heard it before.

"That sounds nice," Quentin said, his brains apparently leaking out of his ears due to that brilliant, tender smile.

Eliot kissed him in the quiet stillness of the midwinter night, in the near darkness of the waning moons. They'd agreed on how far things would go, so Quentin relaxed against Eliot's mouth and his body, his fingers finding the hard nubs of Eliot's nipples and rubbing them lightly through his shirt and vest.

Quentin was hard, but in a dim and fuzzy way. Not urgent. What was urgent was the taste of Eliot's mouth, the way his lips moved over Quentin's, and the way he held Quentin in placed to be kissed.

A… quite a while later, Quentin looked up into the night sky. It had stopped snowing ages ago, and most of the stars were visible now. One of those stars, off in the distance, was Earth. Quentin was pretty sure, anyway.

The moons were almost to their highest point in the sky which-

"Oh, it's almost midnight," Quentin said. Penny was gonna be real fucking annoyed when Quentin got home. Unless Julia had gone over, too, to keep him company. "I should-"

He untangled himself from Eliot, a more complicated task than expected, since he couldn't resist the urge to steal another kiss or two along the way.

"Let me walk you home," he said.

Eliot's eyebrows raised and a grin touched the corners of his lips.

"To your door," Quentin clarified, though he softened his words with another gentle kiss.

He kept hold of Eliot's arm as they walked back to Fen's cottage, not speaking for once, just enjoying the quiet of the night around them.

"You want to come in?" Eliot asked, when they reached the front door. It was… a temptation. Eliot had kissed like a man with experience. But it was late, and he'd spent so much of the day with Eliot as it was.

"Not tonight," Quentin said, and Eliot smiled like it was a promise. Maybe it was.

"Sleep well, Eliot." He pushed himself up on the balls of his feet to give Eliot one last kiss.

"See you tomorrow," Eliot said, catching Quentin's jaw and holding him in place for several more 'good night' kisses.

As soon as Quentin walked away from Eliot, the true chill of the night snuck back in. It was good, though. It cooled him down on the way home.

When he arrived at his cottage, Penny and Julia were sitting up at opposite ends of his small couch, their legs resting together in the middle as they talked quietly. Julia looked up, gave him a welcoming grin.

"Someone was out late," she teased. "Have a good time?"

"I don't want to hear any details," Penny announced, though not too loudly. "So if you're planning on interrogating Coldwater, I'm heading home." Julia patted his arm gently, and Penny popped out of place, back to his and Julia's house.

Quentin picked up Julia's legs and settled them on his lap as he sat down. "I'm not giving- not giving out details," he said, face heating, but he could probably blame it on the cold. "Is Jane-"

"Snug as a bug," Julia said. "We tucked her into bed a few hours ago. You won't at least give me an overview? You seem to like the guy."

"I do like him," Quentin said, softly. He sighed. "Probably more than I should, given how soon he's leaving."

"He a good kisser then?" Julia wrapped her arms around her legs, leaning forward, eyes bright with curiosity.

"Very good," Quentin said, hand fluttering up to his lips.

"It's not the same as Poppy," Julia said, reassuringly, as if stealing the words from inside his head. "She was a one of a kind clusterfuck, Q."

"Jules," he said, in warning, glancing in the direction of Jane's room. Even if Julia was pretty sure Jane had gone to bed, there was always a chance she'd woken up again.

"Yeah, yeah, little pitchers have big ears," she grumbled. "I'm just saying, there's nothing wrong with two adults having no-strings fun."

"I know that," Quentin said, petting her ankle. "I know."

"Okay," Julia said. "You want to tell me anything else about this guy who can inspire you to actually go to a party?"

Quentin thought about it for a while, but then shook his head. There wasn't much to say, honestly. Eliot was gorgeous and he seemed to think Quentin was attractive enough. Two weeks wasn't a lot of time, so he wasn't sure if anything else — things like Eliot's sweetness or how he actually seemed to like listening to Quentin talk or any of the rest of it — it didn't really matter. Eliot wouldn't be around long enough for it to matter.

"Then I will start my long, lonely walk back into town," Julia said, kissing his cheek before she got up.

"Mmm," Quentin agreed absently. He sat on the couch a moment longer, then got up and checked on his daughter.

**New York City, Earth**

Fen sipped at her hot chocolate thoughtfully, glad that she'd remembered the name correctly when asking Todd if she could try some. Quentin, Julia, and Penny had talked about chocolate but the experience was quite singular. It was very sweet, but also complicated. She might have to ask Margo if she could purchase some to take back to Fillory. Though that would mean talking to Margo again after the mess that Fen had made of things the last time they'd spoken. Fen made a face down at her mug.

"I hope it doesn't taste _that_ bad." It was Margo's voice, wry but not unkind.

"What? Oh! It's wonderful," Fen said, clutching the mug in her hands. "I've never had chocolate before."

"Well, you're in for a treat," Margo said, sitting across from Fen. "There are a fuckton of variations on the theme." She placed a pile of books — oh, they were Fen's own manuscripts — down between them on the table. "This shit is fantastic, Fen. You come back when people are open for business and I'm sure you'll find an eager publisher."

"You truly believe so?" Fen asked, feeling as warmed by the look in Margo's eyes as she'd been by her drink. "The translation from Fillorian isn't too awkward? My friend Julia used a spell that she said would make it read naturally from my intent."

"Not awkward at all," Margo said. "Not all the word choices are ones I'd see normally, but they give it a nice fantastical vibe. It works."

Fen beamed happily at Margo, who leaned across the table, her hand very close to Fen's.

"Janie is a firecracker," Margo said, with enthusiasm. "She's a fucking charmer and a half."

"I can't take credit for that part as much," Fen said, with a fond smile. "As you guessed, my niece is… is very like Janie."

Margo waved a hand airily.

"You're the one who found the right words to describe her personality," Margo said. "And the adventures are clever, too. That watch of time, for instance. Her figuring out how to reverse it to undo the avalanche came across as insightful but you put enough hints in that most of the readers will get carried along with her."

"Thank you," Fen said, because that really had come out of her own mind, and someone as obviously smart as Margo praising it was- well, it was a very nice compliment.

Margo's smile widened even more and a tiny thrill ran down Fen's spine and then an odd vibration filled the air, coming from Margo.

"Oh, I better check this," Margo said, pulling a slim rectangle from her bag — oh, it was one of those phones Fen had seen people pressing their thumbs over and making faces at. "Oh, this is… it's a text from Josh. I better…" and she pressed quickly against the screen of the phone, frowning a bit. "Okay. I gotta talk to him. We'll chat again soon."

And Margo was up and off, just like that. Fen reached out and tugged her books back over to herself with a sigh. She didn't have any valid reasons to feel a little sad about Margo rushing off like that. Like Margo had said about Rafe, Margo didn't owe Fen anything.

Still, it did sting. A bit.

"Hey, alien princess. What's with the frown?"

Kady slid into the seat across from Fen, looking possibly concerned. Alice sat down next to her, hands folded delicately in front of her on the table, and Alice's concern was more apparent.

"You do seem sad," Alice said, with a frown of her own. "Was Margo being a bitch to you?" Her voice made it clear that was a bad thing, even if the translation didn't make sense. "Don't take it personally. She's like that with everyone."

"Except Waugh," Kady added.

"Right, she is different with Eliot," Alice acknowledged. "So don't take it to heart."

"Margo's very nice," Fen said, stoutly, because it was nothing but the truth. Margo had been nice since they first met. "She's not-" she ventured a guess. "She didn't hurt my- she didn't mean to hurt- she's nice."

Kady glanced over Fen's face, then bent towards Alice and whispered in her ear. Alice's face screwed up in disagreement or confusion, maybe, and she whispered something back to Kady.

"You have none," Kady said to Alice, fond in a way that felt almost too personal to watch. "Absolutely none at all."

"I'm confused," Fen said, but at least it was a distraction from the pang in her heart that she had no right to feel. "What doesn't Alice have?"

"Even the slightest lick of a gaydar," Kady said and Fen wasn't even sure those were all words but she didn't know enough about English to challenge it. "Look, you like girls, right? You were trying to flirt with me the other day, before you realized I was with Alice."

Kady didn't seem to have any doubt in her conclusions and Fen's outside research led her in that direction as well.

"I hadn't thought about it before," Fen said. "But ever since I came to Earth, the women have been awfully distracting."

"Oh, yeah, I see now," Alice said. "What was your-"

"She should come with us tomorrow night. Check out the scene with some friendly faces," Kady said, wrapping her arm around Alice's shoulders. Alice… didn't snuggle into her, exactly, but did soften slightly.

"We're having our weekly date night," Alice said. She didn't sound like she was arguing but it didn't really sound like agreement either. "You wanna take someone with us on our date night?"

"I want to perform a community service," Kady said, and she leaned down and pressed a kiss against Alice's hair. "There will be other date nights. How often do we get to help someone take their first steps into the bar scene? Especially someone literally from another world."

"That's a good point," Alice said, then she turned towards Fen. "Would you like to join us tomorrow night? We're going to a bar called Henrietta Hudson. There are usually a lot of pretty girls there."

"Oh, you noticing the other girls?" Kady said, but in a light tone that made it clear she wasn't really jealous. "Am I not treating you right?"

Alice ignored Kady completely, her attention focused on Fen.

"That sounds… nice," Fen said. She needed to get out of the retreat. Needed to forget Rafe and to- to get her mind off Margo. "I would love to go."

She would open up her heart to possibility. And hope the next person to catch her eye wasn't also already in love with someone else.

**Kilnsworth Creek, Fillory**

Eliot was tempted to just forget his entire plan.

Well, okay. Not the part where he kissed Quentin some more. That part of the plan still seemed like a great idea.

No, it was the whole bit about being emotionally vulnerable and asking for what he wanted that was making him hesitate. This was, after all, technically a rebound and Quentin deserved better than to be someone's rebound. Plus, emotional vulnerability was for nerds and losers, not for people like Eliot, who was better at feigning emotions than letting people see his real ones.

Margo would be with him on this. She'd tell him that a quick, no-strings bang was what he needed and getting squishy feelings involved would be the worst move possible. And she'd be right.

What Eliot _should_ do was march through the workshop door, sweep Quentin into a kiss and charm him out of his clothes. Have a hell of a fling and get himself in a better mood for New Year's.

What he wanted to do… that was harder to define.

He didn't just want to get Quentin naked. He kinda wanted to talk to him first. He wanted to hear more about why Quentin had left Earth. He even wanted to hear more about the ex-wife, which was a first for him. He wanted to understand what made Quentin tick, in a way that he hadn't really cared to know about a person since he'd met Margo.

It was a little shameful to realize he'd never quite felt that urge with Mike. He'd gotten to know Mike but it had taken time. Love at first sight was something Eliot firmly did not believe in… lust at first sight, sure. Infatuation at first sight, very believable. Love at first sight? Ridiculous.

He still felt that way.

And this _hadn't_ been at first sight anyway but it was still… still much too fast.

Rebound, he reminded himself. That's why it felt this way, because Eliot was rebounding from Mike.

That settled it. He would go in, make the terms perfectly clear, and have a nice fling with Quentin Coldwater. Then he'd go home to New York and start looking for someone who actually fit into his life there, rather than attempting the longest distance romance in history.

Decision made, Eliot went through the door.

And all his careful thinking fell straight out of his brain and landed at his feet.

Quentin was in the middle of constructing a stained-glass window. At least, that's what it looked like — there was a series of buckets by his feet and he was lifting up tiny pieces of glass and heating the edges to seal them together.

He hadn't noticed Eliot.

It was such tiny magic, but Quentin held it with such care that it took Eliot's breath away. He _should_ have gone to Brakebills. There was something tragic in the fact that he hadn't. But there was a beauty in it, too, how Quentin touched his magic without any of the practiced grace that Eliot and Margo had been taught.

When Quentin saw Eliot, the window trembled slightly but he held it together. "Hey," Quentin said, and he was sweaty and breathless from effort, because even small spells could take a lot out of someone if they did enough of them. Eliot could see the memory of their kisses last night reflected in Quentin's eyes.

"Hey," Eliot said back, his mind going absolutely blank. This was just a rebound, he reminded himself again, but the words fell apart when he tried to attach them to Quentin standing in front of him. "Anything I can do to help? My discipline is telekinesis."

"Discipline, huh," Quentin repeated, thoughtfully, because right, he was a hedge witch so he wouldn't know shit about disciplines. Well, he was technically a hedge witch, sure, since there weren't any official schools in Fillory as far as Eliot knew, but was it really fair to call him that when he'd never had the chance to be tested? "I have it covered, but I'll keep that in mind next time, uh, the next time I need some heavy lifting done."

Eliot shrugged easily and hoisted himself up on one of the side counters to wait. He'd done this twice now, wait around for Quentin to get finished up with his work, and there was something almost peaceful about it.

The stained-glass was a lovely sunset over a mountain, Eliot saw, as Quentin turned it to catch the light.

"Is that for someone or just because you like making it?" Eliot asked. Quentin smiled at him, lips still together but his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Because I wanted to make it," he said and it looked like he was sealing something to the edges as a frame. "If someone in town doesn't want it, Penny takes it up to Whitespire — that's the capital city — and there's someone there who always wants to buy them."

"Probably turning around and selling at ten times the price he gives you," Eliot said, but Quentin shrugged.

"I don't need much money here," he told Eliot. "I'm just glad someone enjoys them."

Eliot frowned, not able to quite put his finger on why that bothered him. It wasn't only that he worried people were taking advantage of Quentin but…

"You don't have any grand ambitions?" Eliot asked, trying to keep his voice light and free from judgment. He wasn't sure if he managed it.

"My life here is happy," Quentin said, like it was just as simple as that. Maybe it was. "Do I need a grand ambition? What would you pick for me?"

Quentin didn't seem offended, just amused, so that was good. Eliot thought over Quentin's question. Eliot had spent so long chasing his own grand ambition, now achieved, and it had cost him his potential happiness in the end. Would it have been worth it to trade away his dream with Margo in order to have Mike say 'yes'?

He wasn't sure it would have been. Did it have to be one or the other — happiness or the dream? That wasn't really what Quentin had asked, though, so Eliot kept it light.

"You like fantasy stories and you're in a whole fantastical world," Eliot said. "I'm surprised you aren't sailing off into new horizons as we speak."

"Sailing, hmm?" Quentin pulled himself up onto the counter next to Eliot, work done for now. "I do love boat stories. I did- I did have some bigger dreams, after we decided to settle here. Visit the other countries, explore the outer reaches of this world."

"Why haven't you?" Eliot asked, resting his palm on Quentin's knee to soften the question.

Quentin looked… vague and distant.

"Life got in the way, I suppose." Quentin stroked his fingers along the top of Eliot's hand, which was quite distracting when Eliot was trying to have a serious conversation. "Anyway, there are enough adventurers in the world already."

Eliot turned his hand to catch Quentin's fingers in his. Quentin's answer made sense, but it still felt incomplete.

"I like you," he blurted out, graceless and awkward and not at all as he had planned.

"Well, I'm glad last night wasn't a hallucination," Quentin said, soft and amused. His thumb rubbed against the base of Eliot's palm. "I like you too. I mean. That was probably obvious."

"Yeah, the kissing was nice," Eliot said. "You did pretty good for someone who claims he's out of practice."

Like a reward, Quentin leaned over and pressed a brief kiss against the corner of Eliot's mouth.

He started to pull back again but Eliot wasn't ready to stop, so he brought up his other hand to cup Quentin's face, tug him in for a more thorough kiss, tongues and a hint of teeth.

"Nice," Quentin said, into Eliot's mouth. "Feels like an understatement."

Eliot let go of Quentin's hand so that he could haul Quentin up and over into Eliot's lap, kiss him breathless. Quentin was such an eager kisser, opening greedily against Eliot's mouth. So he let himself indulge for a while, with sweet kisses that made Quentin clutch at his shoulders.

Then Eliot pulled back, rested his forehead against Quentin's and said quickly, before he lost his courage, "I know we have very different lives, but I don't want to never see you again after I go home."

There was silence for long enough that Eliot started to regret his words but then-

Then-

Quentin kissed the corner of his mouth, said, "Yeah, I like you too." He moved away, and Eliot blinked open his eyes, watched Quentin's face as he said, "Julia is working on a better way to communicate between worlds than bunnies. If you think you might-"

"I do," Eliot said, maybe too quickly. But it had been fast with Margo, too, knowing that he wanted to keep her in his life. Maybe fast was actually more reliable than gradual, at least for Eliot. Maybe he needed to trust his instincts. "And you could come visit the retreat?"

Quentin hesitated again, and Eliot could see the conflict on his face.

"Fillory is my home," he said. "And it has been… a very long time since I've seen Earth."

"Right, I get that," Eliot said. "There's not-"

After a soundless rush of air, Eliot heard Penny say, "Oh, seriously? What happened to — 'I have a lot of work today', Coldwater?"

"Shut up, Penny," Quentin said, with a roll of his eyes. "Like you and- anyway, I'm assuming it's important?"

" _You_ are needed ASAP and…" Penny paused, glanced at Eliot. "Anyway, it's important but not life-threatening. See you there. You know where."

And then Penny was gone and Quentin was sliding away from Eliot, getting himself back in order.

"Okay, I better…" Quentin glanced at Eliot, bit his lip, then said, "Tonight is the goat-wreathing ceremony. I can meet you on the village green?"

"The what?" Eliot asked, because this fucking town. Seriously.

"It's in honor of- I'll explain tonight. You know your way around now, right? Okay, good. See you tonight!"

And Quentin pressed a kiss against Eliot's jaw and was out the door. Eliot didn't follow, because it had been made pretty clear they didn't want him to and- and that was fair enough. He and Quentin still barely knew each other.

But, really, _goat-wreathing_ ceremony?

**New York City, Earth**

Son of a goat-fucker, but Josh looked happy on the other side of the mirror. That was the thing, Margo couldn't stop thinking. When he talked about his work and the travel and the constantly-moving party, it was obvious how much he still adored it all.

"I mean, the range at this hotel would knock your socks off," Josh raved, thrilled and in his element.

"We have a pretty good one here too," Margo said and Josh picked up on her tone, his own face getting more serious.

"Yeah, I'm sure you do," he agreed. "What's wrong, Margo?"

"Do you think- after your current trip is over, do you think that you might like to work here for a while? With me and Eliot?" Her voice felt tight.

"I could stop for a visit, but you mean, like, a full-on permanent contract?" And his nose wrinkled and she knew his answer before he said it. "You know how much I hate to tie myself down."

She did. She did know. Fuck.

"You should come join me again, like before," he said, more encouragingly. "You loved doing the world tour shit."

"I remember," she said, quietly. "Life was a party and we were the gods."

"Still are, babe," Josh said. "I miss you. Eliot can run that place without you for a while, right?"

He could. He absolutely could. She just didn't _want_ him to — she fucking loved this place, this home that she and Eliot had carved out of the world with money and blood and will.

"I mean, at least think about it," Josh said, then his eyes tracked to the side, where she couldn't see. "Ah, duty calls! Talk soon, love you lots!"

His hand twisted and the spell turned off before she had the chance to say goodbye back.

Margo sighed, heavily.

 _Maybe you aren't compatible anymore_ , Fen had said, all shy mouse but… but probably right. They didn't want the same things. Not anymore.

Margo sprawled back onto her bed and stared up at the ceiling, so fucking annoyed at herself. Because she shouldn't have needed someone else to point it out to her. She knew what a sunk-cost fallacy was; she should have goddamn noticed her relationship had turned into one.

But she'd never been one to wallow, so she only let herself lay there for a moment before she yanked her phone over to herself and made a call. If she couldn't be productive for herself right now, she could make an effort for someone else.

That was a good distraction for an hour or so, and then Margo left her suite to check in on the rest of the retreat. Luckily, The Flying Forest was humming along smoothly. The culprit? Todd, surprisingly enough. He'd managed to talk himself into the receptionist position and was fielding a guest's questions with an astonishing degree of accuracy and competence.

"Boss!" he said, cheerfully, when he saw her. "I logged all guest comments, just like the policy says!"

He spun the monitor to face her and it looked… in order.

"Huh," she said. "I was gonna yell at you a little, pick up El's slack, but you are not sucking at this. Maybe we actually _should_ hire you."

He looked like a goddamn puppy dog at her words.

"Yeah?" He beamed at her. It was blinding, like the fucking sun right in her poor eyeballs. "Can I tell Eliot you said that? When he gets back, I mean."

"Absolutely not," Margo said, and his face fell, still like a puppy but one that's been told no walksies today. "You're still on probation. I'm gonna read over your logged comments and make sure there's no fuck-ups there. Also, where's Caroline?"

"Oh, man, puking like there's no tomorrow," Todd said, sympathetically. "She thinks she ate some bad fish? She almost threw up on Evie from room 8C."

"Well, _fuck_ ," Margo said, with feeling. "Okay, you can fill in for the rest of her shift. Has she visited Nicky yet?" Two years younger than them, but Nicky had been a great connection to make before they graduated Brakebills — his Healing discipline was minor injuries, so being an in-house on-call for small things like this had ended up being a perfect fit.

"I think she was headed there once she could make it without puking, yeah," Todd said.

Margo nodded. "Okay, quick run-down of any issues?"

"Maddie in 5C wants a room with a skylight," Todd said, only needing to take occasional glances at his notes. "When I explained the retreat was fully booked, she made noises about having us _make_ a skylight-"

Margo listened rather more attentively than she'd ever listened to Todd before. His memory for this was impressively good. She understood why Eliot couldn't deal with him, but he was showing a level of competence that would, honestly, be a great fucking asset. So, maybe it was time to be practical and tell Eliot to get over his Todd-issue and actually hire the guy.

"-then Eliot's boyfriend-"

Margo grabbed Todd's forearm. "Mike was here?"

That sniveling, no-good weasel-hearted fuckjob. Had he come by to pick up his stuff, already? That plugged-up asshole. That-

"Um, yeah?" Todd said, with a confused blink.

"He's not Eliot's boyfriend anymore," Margo said, and Todd's brows drew together. "Did he say why he was here?"

"They broke up?" Todd sounded incredulous now. "Does- does Mike know that?"

And Margo wasn't about to spill any details that Eliot might find embarrassing or painful, so she just said, "He fucking better," and left it at that. Ugh. How dare he come here. "Did he want to talk to Eliot? Well, he can go fuck himself. Ugh. I need a drink. Keep-" Margo hesitated and took in Todd's still-bewildered face. "You're doing good. Keep it up."

He grinned at her, blindingly, and she needed a fucking break from men in general right now.

Well, all men but Eliot, she thought with an ache.

She went back upstairs and flopped back down on her bed, not even bothering to close her door. She should probably go visit Nicky, too. She felt a headache coming on.

"Ugh, fuck me in the eyeball with a screwdriver," she muttered.

"That sounds painful."

Fen's voice, cautious. Margo pushed up onto her elbows. Fen hovered in the door, uncertain, so Margo waved her in.

"I'm avoiding men for the rest of the day," Margo announced, melodramatic and not bothering to hide it. "So come on in, honey." She relaxed back against the bed, knocking her knee against Fen's when she lay down next to her.

"What did they do?" Fen asked, and Margo grinned. It was nice to know some things transcended worlds.

"What _didn't_ they do," Margo said. She reached out, patted Fen's hand absently. "Right now, I'm pissed at Eliot's ex-boyfriend. Fucking breaks my best friend's heart and then comes strolling around a couple of days later. Pfft."

"You really care about Eliot," Fen said, warmly. "It makes me feel better about having him in my house. Not that there's anything he could really do but, well. You know."

Woman living alone. Yeah, even in fantasyland, there were probably dangers to look out for. Though Fen seemed pretty comfortable with her knives.

"Yeah, I know," Margo agreed. She stared up at the ceiling for a while, Fen's body warm against hers. She was- she was- "I could eat a fucking hippo," she said, stomach twisting up with hunger. "I wanna go get some lunch. You hungry?"

"Starving," Fen agreed, with good humor.

**Kilnsworth Creek, Fillory**

Quentin pushed up the hem of Jane's pants and winced slightly. Penny hadn't been lying, it wasn't life-threatening, but it was still a nasty scrape. "Were you trying to jump fences again?" he asked her. She looked away, sheepishly. Quentin sighed. "Jane, you can't jump as high as Reggie. You know that."

"I'm getting better," Jane protested. Quentin took out a cloth to wipe away her mostly-dried tear tracks. "I can jump real high now, daddy."

"And yet here we are," he pointed out, dryly.

Fen wasn't here, of course, but she kept a first-aid kit at Julia and Penny's shop, so Quentin fetched it and started cleaning and bandaging Jane's banged-up shin and ankle. She'd gotten herself pretty good, and it might actually leave a lasting mark. He wondered if maybe Eliot was better at healing than Julia or Penny but… no, Eliot had said he specialized in telekinesis.

"You're gonna make me go home and rest," Jane said, gloomily. He caught her nose between his fingers and she blew an annoyed breath of air at him. " _Daaaad_ , I'm fine now."

"Two options," Quentin said, and she straightened up and put her hands in her lap, staring at him expectantly. "One, I do the temp-heal spell and you get to stay and hang out with your friends, but you have to go to bed early and rest. Two, you take a nap now and you get to go out with me this evening."

Jane squinted at him suspiciously, which was fair. Normally, she'd always take playing more now over something vague in the future, so he knew she was guessing there was more to things.

"But if you come with me tonight-" and Quentin was nervous about the suggestion but if… if Eliot really did want to try something more than a holiday whatever, then Quentin would need to do this sometime. "-you can meet dad's new friend." And if kids were a dealbreaker for Eliot, Quentin would find out.

"The guy from Earth!" Jane wrapped her arms around his neck. "Okay, okay. I'm badly injured. Take me to bed so I can rest up!"

Quentin laughed and picked her up and hauled her to Julia and Penny's back office, where they had a comfortable couch that she'd slept on many times before.

He draped a blanket over her and fussed until she pouted at him and told him she needed to nap already.

"Okay. I'm gonna go help your Aunt Julia for a while," Quentin said, and headed back into the main room.

"I hear all that right?" Julia asked, eyes bright and voice low enough not to carry. "You're gonna introduce Jane to Eliot?"

"Yeah, well." Quentin rubbed at the back of his neck. "Do you think it's a good idea? Maybe I shouldn't have- but he, uh. He asked if I wanted to maybe not have this be the only time we- um."

"You're blushing," Julia said, delighted. "You think he was telling the truth?"

"I mean, lying seems pointless? We were already-" Quentin broke off into a cough. "It's not like he needed to say that."

"So now it's time to see if finding out you're a father will scare him off," Julia said, more seriously.

"Yeah," Quentin admitted. "I think it is."

**New York City, Earth**

Fen took a bite of the 'pizza' and murmured her approval. After chewing and swallowing, she told Margo, "I need the recipe for this to take back home. I love it!"

"We should buy you a recipe book while you're here," Margo said. "Maybe a few."

"You shouldn't keep spending money on me," Fen protested, but the thought was kind. "It'll take forever for me to pay you back."

"Maybe not," Margo said, arching an eyebrow. "I did a little research and discovered someone I knew pre-Brakebills works at Atheneum Books and I think I can get him to take a personal look at your Janie stories."

Fen just stared for a moment, feeling flushed and thrilled and-

Grateful, she told herself firmly. Grateful was how she should feel.

"Thank you, Margo," she said, quietly. She took a sip of her… well, Fen didn't remember what it was called but it was coffee mixed up with chocolate and much better than coffee on its own. "I… thank you."

Margo waved a hand, but she was smiling, too.

"I really do have to repay you," Fen said. "Perhaps when Eliot is done with his trip to Fillory, you could come for a visit? You ask so many questions about it."

"I would love to visit sometime," Margo said, sincerely.

It was enough to make Fen's mind wander, thinking of the places she'd like to show Margo. Fen wasn't a great explorer but she'd been to Whitespire and she knew the way to Chattering Bay and- oh, all sorts of things. Margo seemed very interested in the Talking Animal part of Fillory's citizenship and most of Fen's patients were Talking Animals.

"I think you would enjoy it," Fen said, and remembered a moment later about masterchef Josh. Should she invite him too? Maybe Margo just assumed he would be invited and it would only get awkward if she said something and made it look like she'd only meant to invite Margo the first time.

"I do want to make sure El's feeling better before I leave him alone in New York," Margo said. "He takes breakups hard."

"He sounded like he was having fun," Fen ventured. Though there were limitations to what kind of tone could be carried via bunny messengers. "He was planning on wooing someone last night."

"Wooing is probably not the word I would use," Margo said, with a small laugh. "But, yeah, that's a reason why I suggested he take a trip. Easier to move past Mike when El isn't surrounded by memories."

"It is easier," Fen agreed. At least, it seemed so. Thinking of Rafe was a lot less painful now than it had been when she'd still been in Fillory, that was certainly true.

Margo placed a hand on her wrist and gave her a warm smile. "I'm glad it's helping. You deserve better than to pine after a guy in love with someone else."

Ha, if only she didn't still have that problem, Fen thought, having a hard time focusing on anything that wasn't Margo's fingers on her skin.

It was a good thing Fen was going out tonight, letting Kady and Alice show her around this new world for a new part of herself. Because she couldn't let herself get all attached to Margo like she had to Rafe. No, it would be worse than with Rafe, because she'd known from the start that Margo was already in love with someone else. Her little crush was nothing compared to the history Margo shared with him.

"I'm working on it," she told Margo. Fen focused back on her pizza, taking another bite, with its lovely mix of savory flavors. "You use cheese for so many things."

"Point taken and subject officially changed," Margo said, turning back to her own meal. "Tell me what foods you use with cheese in Fillory."

**Kilnsworth Creek, Fillory**

Eliot hummed as he straightened his tie. He'd been able to bring many outfits to Fillory, thanks to the magic of enchanted luggage, but this might be one of his favorites. Dark blue shirt, with a paler vest and tie, pants that clung to his legs, and some good shoes, since he wouldn't be wandering through too many dirt roads tonight.

Goat-wreathing ceremony. It still sounded absolutely absurd. Eliot was looking forward to listening to Quentin's explanation. Quentin had such an expressive way of describing things, all waving hands and a fascinating array of facial expressions.

A knock sounded on the door.

Well, if Quentin had decided to escort him rather than meeting him there, Eliot wouldn't complain. He took one last glance in the mirror and went to open the door.

It wasn't Quentin.

Eliot's mouth opened, then closed again as words failed him.

Mike.

Mike, all dressed up the way he hadn't been the night of the party, no road dust on his shoes. Mike, nervous expression and a piece of paper in his hands that Eliot suspected was a magical map.

"Eliot!" Mike enthused and he barreled into the cottage, wrapping Eliot up in his arms.

Instinctively, Eliot pushed him away, finally finding some words. "How the ever-loving fuck are you even here?"

"Oh, Eliot," Mike said, fondly. "It wasn't like you kept your destination a secret? And your assistant was incredibly helpful."

 _Todd_.

"And then you did a locator spell once you came through the clock tree, I assume," Eliot said, nodding at the map. "What the- why?"

"I thought you'd be happier to see me," Mike said. He held up his left hand, where the engagement ring shone in the light. "I thought things over and it's a yes. I'll marry you, Eliot."

Eliot took another step backward.

He was not fucking prepared for this.

"I have- there's a traditional Fillorian goat-wreathing ceremony tonight," Eliot said, brain on autopilot. Mike's nose scrunched up but Eliot didn't care it was essentially the same reaction that he'd had — what right did Mike have to judge the weird-ass Fillorian customs? "I'm gonna go. To that. We're gonna talk afterwards." When Eliot had a chance to process and figure out what the fuck was going on.

"I can go with you," Mike said, after a moment. "I've never seen a… I mean, who has?"

"Just stay here and I'll talk to you when I get back," Eliot said, edging around Mike and scooting out the door.

He took a couple of glances behind himself and it didn't look like Mike was following, so Eliot allowed himself a little mental space to freak the fuck out. Mike had- had flat-out said he wanted to take a break, see other people, and then make up his mind, right? Eliot hadn't been imagining all that because it was the whole reason he'd decided to take a vacation in fairy tale land to begin with so, yes, 'what the fuck' seemed like an appropriate response.

Eliot also took stock of another thing — he hadn't been relieved or thrilled to see Mike, just baffled and hurt. Was it possible Mike had been right? And it wasn't so much _Mike_ that Eliot had loved but the idea of Mike?

He chewed over the thought on his walk to the town green. Everything with Mike had seemed so easy. He'd had nerves plenty of times — like meeting Mike's parents — but then the worst never happened and he'd relaxed. Enough to buy a fucking ring. Mike hadn't seemed unhappy until that last conversation at the party. Had it just been an impulsive attempt at- what? What would Mike get out of doing this? Why change his mind only a couple of days later?

Eliot was starting to get an ugly feeling about what Mike might have actually been doing but he didn't want to make assumptions. He'd talk to Mike about it afterwards.

Right now, Eliot just wanted to spend some time with Quentin and not fucking think about the messy post-breakup conversation he apparently needed to have with Mike.

**New York City, Earth**

Margo took in a few deep breaths. This conversation was not gonna be easy, even if Josh felt the same way that she did. They'd been a thing almost as long as magic had been a thing in her life.

But they didn't work anymore. One of them had to face up to that.

Afterwards, maybe she'd see if-

No, she couldn't think about that now. This moment was about her and Josh, not anyone else. There would be time enough to think about someone else later, when she was single.

She sent the text to Josh. It would be the wee hours of the morning in Paris, but Josh normally didn't get to sleep until four or five am, so he should- yeah, he'd texted back the confirmation.

Margo sat down in front of the mirror and watched Josh's face replace hers.

"Babe! Did you think more about coming over here?" Josh asked, enthused. Margo let herself just look at him a moment, to see if her conviction held.

"I've been thinking a lot," she said. He took in her expression and his own sobered up. "Josh… we've grown apart. Haven't we?"

"Yeah, that's why I-" he hesitated. "Oh, shit. Margo, is this a break-up call?"

"I'm that obvious?"

"I still know you well enough to remember your bad news face," Josh said, ruefully. He shook his head. "How long have you been thinking about this?"

"I've spent a while trying not to think about it," she admitted and watching his face fall was like kicking a puppy across a football field. Motherfucker, it sucked ass to break someone's heart when she _did_ still give a shit about them. "But like mold on bread, scraping it away just meant it would come back later."

"Did you have to- have to use a food metaphor?" Josh asked, and he was teary-eyed. "Just… you know, I love when you use food metaphors."

She really hoped he wasn't gonna actually cry.

And because he did still know her, at least that much, he sniffled a bit but held back his tears.

Margo had a horrifying thought — was she Mike right now, in this scenario? But Mike'd had plenty of chances to tell Eliot if he was unhappy. Fuck, she hoped she wasn't Mike.

"Is there anything I can do to change your mind?" Josh looked like he already knew the answer and he wasn't surprised when she shook her head.

"We don't fit together anymore, Hoberman. We've barely even seen each other this past year," Margo said. "Besides, you'll be fine. You've got all those cooking groupies."

"There actually aren't that many groupies in the masterchef world," Josh said, with a touch of his normal good humor. "But I'll keep that in mind. I am… I'll miss you." He shrugged. "Though, hey, you didn't throw anything at me, so this _has_ gone better than the last time a girl broke up with me."

"Yeah, well, I ever find out you screwed around while we were together, we _will_ have a fucking conversation," Margo said. "The breakup is young. I might always throw things at you later."

Josh made a mock-scared face. "Yes, ma'am."

"Have fun in Paris, asshole," Margo said, fondly, and shut down the connection.

She sat for a moment.

It had been the right move. She could feel that in her gut. Ugh. Eliot was definitely going to say 'I told you so' when he got home. Still, single at the same time. It'd been a while.

Margo drew herself a bath, pouring in a lovely citrus-scented bath oil and gave herself a moment to breathe in the smell, then gathered her hair up on top of her head and secured it.

She lounged in the heated water, did a quick charm to keep at the perfect temperature.

Keeping herself satisfied was most of what she'd had for the last year, but there was still something different about it, touching herself and knowing she could go out and scratch that itch with anyone, if she wanted.

Margo touched her mouth, imagined all kinds of different sets of lips against then, experimentally. She'd gotten in more than a little experience over the years, and she'd always been blessed with a fantastic imagination. She rubbed her thumb against her lower lip, pressed inside and thought — _soft_. She wanted something soft. Curves and plush, giving skin under her fingers.

Her mind kept circling around a particular set of lips, imagined them opening in a surprised gasp as Margo slipped her fingers inside. Did Fen have any experience with other women or had she only ever been with her ex-boyfriend?

Well, it's Margo's fantasy so… Fen played kissing games with a girl friend when she was young, but nothing more than that.

 _It gets more fun_ , Margo would purr into her ear, taking a nip of the thin skin of the lobe. _I can do all sorts of things to you, if you'll let me. Will you?_

And Fen would nod, eager, like she'd been every time Margo showed her a new 'Earth thing'. Margo wouldn't rush to tying someone up the first time, not in real life, but in her head, there's no such thing as 'too soon'.

She would have Fen kneel on the bed, knees spread wide, tie her wrists together behind her back. Push her down to make her thighs ache and her breasts arch up. Press sucking kisses all over her breasts, give them the attention they deserve, until Fen was dripping onto the sheets and begging for more.

That was a nice thought.

Margo held onto it as she slid her hands over her own breasts, tweaking her nipples until they sparked with pleasing sharp pain.

Kept playing with one breast as her other hand slipped down between her thighs, teasing at her clit. She like big things inside her cunt but coming was always easier with-

She sank down lower into the water, only her face still touching air. She was warm and wet and relaxed and her orgasm was almost gentle, to match how she felt.

Margo just stayed in the tub for a while longer, then stood up and drained it, giving herself a quick rinse with the detachable showerhead while she was at it.

She had no plans to rush into another relationship, especially one with someone living a world away. But it would be interesting to see Fen's reaction to hearing Margo was single now. And she _did_ want to visit Fillory.

So Margo dressed with care, going for casual and approachable but still gorgeous, of course. Air-dried her hair with a specialized spell, let it stay in curls and waves over her shoulders instead of straightening it out. Low-rise dark pants and a subtly shimmering top that showed a hint of her stomach.

Then she went and knocked on Eliot's door.

Fen opened it, looking like a dream.

Looking like a dream Margo had designed, from her cute chin-length hair to the short red dress that clung to long legs. Fen hadn't adopted all of Earth's habits, Margo noticed, as she could see the fine dark strands of hair on Fen's legs. No heels, because Margo wasn't cruel enough to suggest _that_ to someone who'd never worn them before but she was wearing the delicate ballet flats Margo had picked out for her.

"You're all dressed up," Margo said, feeling like she'd just punched herself in the stomach. "You have plans?"

"Kady and Alice are going to introduce me to the New York lesbian scene." Fen said the words carefully, like she wasn't sure if they made sense, so it was likely a direct quote.

Well. That was, honestly, all kinds of adorable. Far be it from Margo to try to distract her from a night like that. She _could_ invite herself along but… nah. She had time. And she always did her best flirting one-on-one, not in a group. "That's sweet of them."

"It is," Fen said, burbling with excitement and there was a moment when Margo wondered if Fen might extend an invite herself, but then the moment passed, and Fen added, "I'm not sure how late I'll be. It sounds like there's a lot for them to show me."

"Oh, I bet there is. You have fun," Margo said. She patted Fen on the arm. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Fen scrunched up her nose. "I don't really know what you wouldn't do?"

"You'll be fine. It's not a long list," Margo said then, with a burst of selfishness- "And if you still have questions when you get back, come knock on my door. I'm sure I'll still be awake."

Fen grinned at her, then darted away, towards the stairs. Margo closed Eliot's door and headed in the direction of the kitchens.

There were a few more things she wanted to check to make sure Todd had gotten right, but she needed a snack first. Even if Todd was more competent than she'd previously given him credit for, he was still _Todd_.

**Kilnsworth Creek, Fillory**

Quentin wished he could borrow Jane's calmness. His own palms were sweaty from nerves. Was it a good idea to introduce Jane and Eliot so early on? Would Eliot take one look at his daughter and turn on his heel and run?

Well, if he did, if he _would_ , it was better to know now, before Quentin had a chance to get too attached.

Still he wished could find the dial in his brain marked 'anxiety' and twist the knob to make it a faded hum instead of a roar.

He'd dressed up, best he could, in his least worn clothing. Jane was also dressed up, by Jane standards. Her trousers weren't torn and she'd let Quentin braid her hair. He wasn't as good at it as Fen, but it looked passable, he thought. Her face was bright and freshly scrubbed, the freckles standing out like dark constellations.

She'd started out next to him but was making the rounds now, all youthful cheer and enthusiasm.

This was the second crowded town event that Quentin had been to in the last few days, and the loud buzz of noise hadn't gotten any easier to deal with.

The goat — of the non-talking variety — was grazing happily in the middle of the crowd. She was the same goat they'd used the last two years, so she knew the routine. And after the wreathing, she'd be allowed to eat the wreath, so it was probably a pretty good deal. For a goat.

She _also_ seemed a lot more calm than Quentin felt.

He rubbed his arms, even though his coat was thick enough that he wasn't cold, and scanned the crowd again.

Swallowed hard when he saw that unmistakable silhouette. Eliot wasn't the tallest person, of course, not with the centaur families here, but he was distinctive.

Quentin waved over in Jane's direction, did a quick wind gust charm to get her attention, and then headed towards Eliot.

Once he got closer, he could see that Eliot looked a little preoccupied, though he did light up with a smile when he saw Quentin.

"Q!"

And that was a hug, warm and tight. Quentin enjoyed it for a long moment before putting his hands on Eliot's chest to push him away far enough to say, "Okay, so before you hear the story of the goat-wreathing, there's, uh. There's someone I want you to meet."

He looked around, not seeing Jane right away.

"I'm not sure I'm ready to meet your parents," Eliot said, with a soft laugh.

"Oh, that's not- where is-"

Quentin spotted a flash of copper hair and heard a very familiar stifled giggle from behind the tent they were using as a communal kitchen for the night.

"Jane Theodora Coldwater, come out from there," he said, firmly. Another giggle and- and a surprised sound from Eliot's direction. Quentin didn't dare look back over at him yet, held out his hand.

Jane bounced out from behind her hiding place, tackling him around the waist instead of taking his hand. Never one to be shy, she stared up at Eliot and said, "You're tall like Penny. Are you from Floreeda too?"

"Definitely not from Florida," Eliot said. His eyes shifted between Jane and Quentin.

"So, this is my daughter," Quentin said. "Jane."

"Pleased to meet you, Jane," Eliot said. He held out his hand. "I'm Eliot."

And because Jane did have manners sometimes, she shook his hand, very solemnly. "You do magic too, right? Will you do a spell for me? Can you make me fly? Dad makes me fly sometimes."

"I could," Eliot said. "Flying is something I'm particularly good at, in fact."

And, well, Eliot's charm seemed to work on girls aged nine as well as it did on anyone else, as Jane sent a sparkling smile in his direction. "Okay, you'll make me fly tomorrow," she decided, then she turned back towards Quentin.

But whatever words she was going to say were lost when Eliot glanced up and over Quentin's shoulder, with an expression Quentin didn't recognize, and then an unfamiliar man's voice said, "Sweetheart! You should have waited for me!"

And a man walked right in between them, grabbing onto Eliot's arm.

"Sweetheart?" Quentin repeated, baffled.

"Mike," Eliot said, and that was definitely annoyance on his face now, but he didn't- he didn't look scared or anything like that. "We were gonna talk later."

"I got curious about this goat-wreathing ceremony," the man — Mike — said, releasing Eliot's arm and turning towards Quentin and Jane. "It's all very… rural. Hadn't thought Eliot would- anyway, are you his guide here? I'm Mike, his fiance."

"Fiance," Quentin repeated. Again. He shot Eliot a questioning look. "Of Eliot's."

"He's not," Eliot said, flatly, taking a step away from Mike… or from Quentin. Quentin still didn't know Eliot too well, but he was familiar with how someone looked when they were butting up against the edges of panic. Eliot glanced around at the crowd, skittishly.

"Okay, it sounds like you two need to have- to have a conversation," Quentin said, very aware of Jane watching the exchange. "We'll give you some privacy."

He grabbed Jane's hand, tugged her away.

"But I didn't get to talk to Eliot," Jane complained once they got a little distance, but she came with him easily enough. "Are we gonna stay for the wreathing? Who was that other guy? What's a fiance? Is Eliot still gonna make me fly?"

"Yes, we're getting some food but we'll stay. I don't know who that guy was. A fiance means engaged to be married. And Eliot said he would, but circumstances change sometimes, so I don't know," Quentin answered.

He did his best not to look in Eliot and Mike's direction. It sounded like maybe he'd dodged a bullet there anyway.

**New York City, Earth**

There were a lot of gorgeous women around, but the only one Fen could think about was the one who wasn't there. Fen's heart was, apparently, very bad at learning its lesson, because it did seem determined to fix itself on people who weren't available.

Margo had looked lovely and relaxed when Fen had talked to her just before going out.

"How often do you and Kady come here?" Fen asked Alice.

Alice wrinkled her nose and shrugged. "Not often. Date night is normally dinner or a movie. Going out is once in a while."

"Kady likes being here more than you do," Fen noted, which made Alice laugh. She didn't try to deny it, though. Kady had gotten them drinks and was currently 'shooting pool' with another woman who was dressed in damaged jeans and had a hairstyle Alice told Fen was called an 'undercut'.

"Compromise is important," Alice said, softly. "She goes with me to science lectures, even though she thinks it's pointless because we have magic."

"How long have you been together?" Fen asked.

"Oh, since Brakebills," Alice said. "We actually met when- this is gonna sound horrible, but she stole something from me-" Fen's eyebrows shot up. "-she had a good reason. But that's what made me notice her. I didn't really… let myself notice anyone most of the time, back during school."

"Yeah," Fen agreed, with a sigh. Alice's reasons had likely been different from Fen's, but she was realizing she'd done the same thing. Rafe had been her closest friend growing up, and it had been… it had been sensible. And she'd never really let herself look at anyone else, because why bother? "Sometimes we need someone to force us to take notice."

"You haven't been," Alice said. "Taking notice, I mean. Do you feel overwhelmed?"

"Oh, no, it's not that," Fen said. She wasn't quite sure she wanted to put it into words though, not here. "Earth is lovely. I haven't felt the least bit overwhelmed."

"Well. I'm glad," Alice said. She twitched her nose, though, looking uncomfortable. Fen was pretty sure that was her fault.

"I could try the dancing," Fen said, thinking out loud. "But I haven't noticed much of a pattern in the steps."

"They aren't planned out. I mean, some specific dances are, but not casual dancing," Alice explained. People just danced however they liked? Sounded confusing. But everyone seemed to be having fun.

"I'll try it," Fen said, hopping off her chair. "Do you want to come with?"

"I'm happy watching the drinks," Alice said firmly.

So Fen fit herself into an empty space and danced, half-watching the other women but not letting herself focus on it too much. She loved the dances back home, but this was another experience altogether, louder and more chaotic.

She liked it, Fen was able to determine after some experimentation.

Did Margo like dancing?

Fen shook her head, exasperated at herself. Made herself look around again, trying to find a pretty lady that also didn't seem already involved with someone.

But it was hard to keep her mind off Margo.

**Kilnsworth Creek, Fillory**

Frustration rose up in Eliot like a wave as he watched Quentin and Jane head over to the other end of the lawn.

"He was cute for a tour guide," Mike said, and what right did he have to sound jealous when he'd-

"We need to talk in private," Eliot said in a tight voice, not bothering to make excuses because he didn't need to — they were fucking broken up. "Can you just- meet me back at the cottage?"

"I want to see this goat-wreathing," Mike said, crossing his arms over his chest. The ring glinted in the fire light. "I mean, look at that little dude. He seems so blissful."

Eliot did not look at the goat, who he was pretty sure was a female goat, and just said, "Fine. I'll see you back there when it's over," and headed out, turning away from Quentin and the whole event.

As he'd expected, Mike followed him.

"I don't understand why you aren't happy," Mike groused as they walked. There were still people around, so Eliot held his tongue. Mike did not. "I mean, if I'd come here to be a dick, then I would understand this reaction, but I came to apologize."

Once they were out of earshot, Eliot said, "So, the other person you were interested only wanted a hookup?"

He glanced over at Mike in time to see a guilty flush. He wasn't sure how to feel. Obviously, Mike breaking up with him before fucking someone else was better than cheating on him, but to come back right afterwards was…

"Look, I made a mistake," Mike said. "And I felt strongly enough about fixing it that I came to another world for you." He waved his hand pointedly. "I'm wearing the ring you bought for me. There's no way you've moved on already."

Eliot kept walking, shook his head. "You- Mike. Maybe my heart is still hurting over what happened, but I'm not gonna fucking- fucking forget about the shit you pulled. Knowing that _this_ is how you handle being attracted to someone else… you made it into being about- about me not fucking being good enough as a person, because you couldn't be honest about what you wanted."

"I wasn't lying," Mike said. Eliot snorted.

"Yet somehow it's not a dealbreaker now," he pointed out. "Look just… go home. You broke up with me. It takes two to get back together and I'm saying 'no'."

Mike didn't immediately turn and leave, of course, kept persistently dogging Eliot's steps.

"Is this about the cute tour guide?" he asks. "How about- how about he's a freebie? We took a break, looked around at other people, and then decided we're better off together."

"I fucking wish you'd been honest with me from the start," Eliot said, stopping in the middle of the lane. "That's what this is about."

God, he felt tired.

"I do love you," Mike said, in a small voice. "Yeah, I fucked up. But are you really not gonna give me a second chance?"

Eliot spun on his heel, took in Mike, who straightened up at Eliot's attention. Part of him was tempted. One screw-up shouldn't be enough to ruin a relationship, right?

But then he remembered how he'd felt, how Mike had turned a night of triumph into- into one of the worst nights of his adult life. Eliot shook his head. "If the other person — and I don't really want to know who he was — if he'd said yes to more than a fuck, you wouldn't be here telling me how much you love me."

"El…" Mike reached out and Eliot jerked away from his hand. " _Eliot_."

"Go home, Mike. Just… go home."

**New York City, Earth**

Margo turned her attention back to the retreat while Fen was out, and hoped she was having a good time. She had dinner downstairs with the guests, playing hostess to the hilt to make up for El's absence. She fucking missed her best friend, even if he would be teasing the hell out of her right now.

 _If I'd known all it would take is a pretty girl to get you break you up with Josh, I would have been throwing them at you ages ago_ , she could imagine him saying, clear as a bell. It wasn't that straightforward, of course. She and Josh had been drifting apart for ages.

But sometimes a kick in the ass was needed to get the ball rolling.

Because it wasn't about Fen, not really. Oh, she did like Fen. A lot more than she'd liked anyone at the start in quite a while, but even if Fen fucked off to Fillory tomorrow and Margo never saw her again, she didn't regret breaking things off with Josh.

Things with Josh had been easy and comfortable. He'd fit into the life she'd had before she made this place with Eliot. But he didn't anymore. Maybe they could make it fit if they both tried hard enough but…

He was happy with his current life. And she- she didn't want it anymore. She wouldn't mind the occasional vacation but she didn't want to keep living her life on the road. She had a home now.

Margo tucked the warm glow of that thought away, turning back to her roast duck and chatting with Tim and Ryan from 4B, who were staying until after New Year's.

After dinner, Margo helped her staff clean up. The hall was nearly empty when she heard a soft voice go, "Hey there."

Margo looked up and smiled at Fen.

She still looked gorgeous, that new short hair of hers wind-tousled. Her cheeks were still pink from the cold — maybe more than that, depending on how things had gone on her night out.

"Hey yourself," Margo said. Then, before she could get too sappy, she added, "Help me get this room set up for tomorrow, hmm?"

Fen blinked at her — and how did her eyes look so startling without makeup? It was genuinely unfair.

"Oh, of course," she agreed quickly, coming over and helping Margo shift a heavy armchair back into place. "I'm glad you're still- Todd said you were-"

"Did you have fun?" Margo asked, before Fen's sentence could become even more of a mess. "Meet any pretty girls?"

Fen inhaled sharply.

"At the club?" Margo prompted, poking Fen gently in the shoulder. "Were there any pretty girls there?"

"No," Fen said. "I mean, yes, of course. I mean… yes, but…"

"You mean what? Were they pretty or weren't they?" Margo teased, leaning against the back of the armchair. "It's not a tough question."

Fen took another deep breath, then nodded, as if to herself. Squared her shoulders. It was quite a performance of preparation.

"Okay, you can tell me to shut up," Fen said, her voice fast and a bit unsteady. "If I… make you uncomfortable or anything." Margo had never had an issue telling people to shut up, so she just raised an eyebrow questioningly. Fen bit at her lip, then added, "None of them were as pretty as you. And I'm not… I know you have a boyfriend. I'm not asking you for- for anything. But if I don't tell you now, I might never- once I go back to Fillory, who knows… so I just wanted you to know. No expectations."

"What exactly did you want me to know?" Margo asked, but she couldn't hide her grin. Fen gave her an exasperated look. Margo laughed. "I don't anymore, by the way."

"You don't…?" Fen's face crinkled up.

"Have a boyfriend. We broke up earlier today," Margo said.

Watching Fen's expressions was well worth the price of admission — disbelief and hope and then trying to rein in those hopes.

"I didn't break up with him for you," Margo stressed. "But now that I'm a free agent… maybe we can try out a date. Well, there is one potential dealbreaker."

"Oh?" Fen asked.

"First, we need a chemistry test," Margo said, enjoying the bewilderment on Fen's face. "May I?"

Fen nodded eagerly, not even asking for a translation of the Earth slang, for once.

Margo rested her hip against the back of the armchair and snagged Fen's hand, pulling her closer.

Fen's lips were soft, her mouth parted slightly in her surprise. Margo didn't rush things, kept it simple and light, just getting the smallest of tastes. She pulled away after a moment, said, "Yeah. I think we can make that part work, at least."

"Yeah," Fen repeated, sounding dreamy. Margo leaned back in for another tiny kiss to the corner of her mouth.

"Get to bed," Margo said, fondly. "And tomorrow, I'll take you somewhere nice."

"For a date," Fen said, and she was the one who pushed forward now, for another quick kiss. "I would- I'd pay, but I don't have any money."

"We won't need any," Margo said. "Now, shoo! We're classy enough to wait at least a day between a breakup and a new date."

Fen opened her mouth as if to argue the point, then sheepishly closed it again. "Good night, Margo," she said instead, and tripped away upstairs.

Margo pressed the back of her hand to a warm cheek. Yeah, the chemistry test had definitely been a success.

**Kilnsworth Creek, Fillory**

The goat pranced in place as the wreath was lowered over her head and everyone cheered loudly. Jane, of course, shrieked with a volume of joy that could cause premature hearing loss. Quentin cheered too, not letting the tangled mess in his heart distract him too badly.

Eliot had left with his… ex, Quentin would say. He knew from experience that while it took two people to create a couple, it only took one to have a break-up.

That whole situation was exhausting to think about. Eliot hadn't made Quentin any promises but there was something different in knowing that he'd just come off a serious relationship.

"Why didn't we get to hang out with Eliot?" Jane asked blithely. She hadn't seemed to pick up on any of the emotional undertones, which Quentin was grateful for. "I thought we were gonna."

"We were, but Eliot's friend came all the way from Earth to see him," Quentin said. He tugged at Jane's braid and she made a face at him. "We're being polite, pumpkin."

"Being polite is the worst thing," Jane said, firmly. "I had questions!"

"You'll get to ask them later," Quentin said, which was maybe a foolish promise to make. Maybe Eliot's ex would talk him back into a relationship and they'd head off somewhere together. Still… Quentin thought of those heated kisses. Eliot would at least come and say goodbye. He was pretty sure, anyway. "Ready to head home?"

Jane took a long look around at the dispersing crowd, sighed heavily, and reached out and grabbed Quentin's hand.

"Yeah, okay," she said, her hand a touch clammy from the cold night air. "I'm not tired though."

From past experience, that meant she was definitely getting sleepy. Quentin let her tug him along the road.

They were halfway home when Jane said, softly, "Mom didn't come yet."

"She didn't," Quentin agreed. Jane pulled her hand away and tucked her arms against her chest with a loud exhale. "How will you feel if she doesn't make it this year?"

Jane was silent for a long time.

Snow danced around them under the light of the moons, dusting over Jane's braids. They'd melt, get her hair wet, so he'd need to make sure to brush her hair out before she went to bed, give it a chance to dry.

"I can't remember her face," Jane said, finally. "I- we have the portrait, I know, but it's not right. And I can't remember how her face was different."

It was a picture, really, not a portrait. A gift Poppy had given Jane a few years ago. She'd been delighted that Jane had wanted a picture of her for a gift, not realizing the implications. She hadn't been thrilled at him for pointing them out, either.

The picture had caught her in a more solemn mood than usual, the laugh lines around her mouth and eyes relaxed and nearly invisible. Jane had it in a place of honor in her bedroom. This was the first time she'd mentioned being unhappy with it.

"We could try sending her a bunny," Quentin offered. Though the bunnies inevitably came back, disgruntled that they hadn't been able to find her.

"Aunt Fen will be home soon, right?" Jane asked, her voice urgent. Quentin brushed snow off her shoulders. "She won't miss the end of Umbermoon."

"She won't," Quentin agreed. "We can send a bunny to her tomorrow too."

"Okay," Jane said quietly. "He was really tall, dad. Are you sure he isn't from Florida?"

"Not all tall people are from Florida," Quentin answered, long used to Jane's abrupt subject changes, and there was another silly pang in his heart as he thought of Eliot again.

When they reached home, Quentin got Jane all tucked away into bed but found that he wasn't nearly ready to go to sleep himself.

He'd read, he decided, and he went and got an old battered comfort book from Earth, settling into a chair and letting himself drift into the world of Hobbiton and Bilbo Baggins setting out on an adventure.

Quentin had let himself forget, really, about all his childhood dreams of being a fantasy hero. Even living in a world of magic, he'd settled into… well, he didn't have any particular regrets. But Bilbo Baggins had been quite middle-aged when he'd gone on _his_ adventure. Maybe, after Jane was grown, it wouldn't be too late…

He was just at the trolls when he heard a soft, unobtrusive knock at the door. If the cottage weren't so quiet, he probably would have missed it entirely. Quentin strangled his hope, marked his place in his book and went to the door.

It _was_ Eliot.

He looked… a mess, honestly, chilled and windblown.

"Why didn't you cast that spell of yours?" Quentin fussed at him, tugging him inside. "How did you know where I- where is your- wait, sit down. Let me get you something hot to drink. I can make tea."

He was rambling. Worse. He might be babbling.

If Eliot were just here to say he was getting back with his ex-boyfriend… ex-fiance… that could have waited until morning, right?

"I wasn't in a relationship when I kissed you," Eliot said, grabbing Quentin's shoulders and keeping him right in front of Eliot. "Mike was- "

"A very recent breakup?" Quentin offered, dryly. Eliot's hands were so cold. "I gathered that. Don't worry, I didn't- it just seemed complicated and I didn't want Jane to-"

"I understand," Eliot said, immediately. "Yeah, I mean, you didn't know Mike from Adam. I guess… in some ways, you barely know me, too, it just doesn't-"

"Doesn't feel that way?" Quentin finished. "Yeah. How- uh. How recently did you…?"

Eliot winced and he almost didn't need to actually say, "It was kinda the whole reason I came to Fillory. Margo thought a trip would clear my head, get me over my heartbreak."

The infamous bestie Margo. Quentin did kinda want to meet her sometime, the way Eliot talked about her.

"She thought you could use a holiday fling," Quentin offered and Eliot flinched again. "I didn't really- I assumed that's what it was, at the start. That's why I didn't- um. It's why I didn't tell you about Jane right away."

"I do like you a lot," Eliot said and it sounded sincere but Quentin held his breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for the 'but'. "More than I've… the timing wasn't great, I know that. I'm not sure I ever would have come here if I hadn't been… what I mean is…"

Quentin couldn't help smiling. "This is a new side of you," he noted. "You want something to drink while you get your words together?"

"You're a dick sometimes," Eliot told him, but it sounded… soft. Maybe fond. "I'm trying to be emotionally honest over here. I don't suppose you have anything alcoholic? Ugh, probably not, huh?"

"I do not," Quentin confirmed. He reached up and took Eliot's wrist in his hand and tugged him over to the couch. "Sit and have some tea. You'll think better when you aren't so cold inside."

Eliot sat back on Quentin's small couch and stared around at the room while Quentin went over and used a minor spell — the nerd part of him still secretly liked to think of spells like this as 'cantrips' — and heated up some water for tea. Herbal tea, which was really the only kind he could make in Fillory.

"What's in this?" Eliot asked, after he held the cup in his hands and sniffed at it. He took a careful sip. "I don't recognize the taste."

"Oh, it's a Fillorian herb mixture," Quentin said. "Helps settle the mind but it can't do any harm. It's called Mother's Healer because women drink it a lot when they're pregnant or if they've just given birth. I think it helps with postpartum depression, though no one here calls it that." It had been trial and error, finding things that helped Quentin when his brain was declaring war against him. Mother's Healer had felt like a miracle the first time Fen had brewed it up for him. "I think it's probably a serotonin booster of some kind."

"Huh," Eliot said, and he took another, bigger drink.

"But that's not what you wanted to talk about," Quentin said. He sat down sideways on the couch next to Eliot, pulling his knee up on the cushions between them. "Right?"

"Not exactly," Eliot agreed ruefully. "I wanted to apologize, first of all. I should have told you that I'd only just come out of a rough breakup."

"We barely knew each other," Quentin said, but there was a warm spot growing in his chest at Eliot's words. "I wasn't upfront about all of my personal history either. A kid is a huge thing not to know about."

"Yeah, she seems like a firecracker," Eliot said, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Doesn't sound like she knows much about Earth, but I guess she doesn't need to know."

"Not yet," Quentin said. "But part of the reason Fen- part of why she's in New York is so we can have choices for Jane when she's older. Her mom is an adventurer, so she might have inherited the wanderer gene."

"Just from her mom?" Eliot asked, reaching out and plucking up Quentin's book from the end table. "You sure about that? Moving to a whole new planet is a pretty big adventure, even if you didn't keep traveling after that."

"I suppose you have a point," Quentin admitted, his own thoughts before Eliot had arrived coming back to mind. "I don't regret having Jane — she's the best part of my life — but it is nice to think that my door to adventure isn't entirely closed."

Eliot put the book and his cup back down on the table, reached out and covered Quentin's knee with one big hand.

"I like you a lot," Eliot said, and there wasn't any of his cleverness in his eyes right now, just honesty. "I'd still like to try doing some extreme long-distance dating, if you think you might be up for it. And I can spend some weekends in Fillory, too."

Quentin stroked a finger along the back of Eliot's hand, making himself think about it and not just impulsively say 'yes'.

"Stay through Umbermoon," he said. "I want you to get to know Jane and to meet Fen. And you can be part of the family meal on the last festival day."

"I need to send Margo a bunny," Eliot said. "Make sure the timing will work out. Tomorrow, though. She might still be awake, but it seems like a daytime conversation."

"Okay, we'll figure it out tomorrow," Quentin said. Then, impulsively, he leaned forward to press a kiss against Eliot's cheek. "You shouldn't walk back this late, not in this weather. I'll sleep out here and you take my bed, okay?"

Eliot snagged his wrist, said, ruefully, "I should insist on taking the couch but I'm pretty sure I can't pretzel myself into a sleeping position on it, so I will graciously accept your offer. Thank you, Quentin. For listening."

Quentin shrugged, a little uncomfortable. He didn't know Eliot well, but he did know him well enough not to need- "Of course."

Eliot twisted Quentin's wrist slightly, bent down and touched his mouth against the pulse point, making Quentin have all kinds of thoughts that he had no intention of following up on until they'd had a much longer conversation. Then Eliot let him go.

"Good night, Quentin."

**New York City, Earth**

"CHANGE OF PLANS."

The bunny arrived in the middle of a private breakfast, one foot directly in the butter dish. Margo sighed. Fen grabbed a napkin.

"STAYING THROUGH UMBERMOON."

Another bunny, smaller but fluffier, appeared directly over Margo's lap, with a slight skittering of nervous paws.

"YOU OKAY THERE ALONE?"

The third and smallest bunny ended up on the floor, nudged up against Fen's foot, and bellowed out her message again. Fen leaned over and picked her up, cradled her thoughtfully — Hopscotch, Jane's favorite bunny messenger, named after an Earth children's game Quentin had taught Jane.

"I'll want my cottage," Fen said, mildly, and watched Hopscotch vanish again. She glanced up at Margo and asked, "Do you have a message to send?"

Margo held up — ah, that was Filbert again — and said, carefully, "We had a deal." Filbert popped away. There was Ginger still left, then, having taken his foot out of the butter dish and proceeding to steal Margo's strawberries.

Margo offered him another one, staring at him thoughtfully. "And you can also tell him that I miss his annoying face."

Ginger ate the strawberry before disappearing.

"You should come back with me when I go home," Fen said, with a flash of inspiration. "For Umbermoon. The last festival day is... important."

Margo bit at her lower lip. Fen wondered if they had time to do more kissing before-

"GOT A PLACE," Hopscotch informed them.

Then Filbert added, "MADE A PROMISE."

"TO A CUTE BOY," Ginger finished.

The conversation continued like that for a while, but Fen and Margo did manage to suss out the broad strokes.

"That asshole," Margo said, but she sounded fond. "Leaves for a few days and heals his broken heart just like that." She snapped her fingers.

And Fen might only have known Margo for a few days herself, but she thought she could spot a winning argument there. "Well, you should definitely go back with me, so you can tell him off properly."

"Hmm, don't want to leave the place without a host," Margo mused, but in a way that implied her mind was already working on the problem.

Fen carefully moved the butter dish to a side table and went back to eating her breakfast with a light heart. Margo would make it all work out.

**Kilnsworth Creek, Fillory**

Young Jane Coldwater, Eliot quickly learned, was very much like her father in certain ways. She was smart, funny in an off-beat way, and some part of her always seemed slightly distracted.

Eliot was used to making himself charming to people and it was a relief that Jane wasn't immune. He kept his jokes PG and definitely confused her more than he wanted, due to the culture gap, but she was remarkably friendly.

Some of the reasons why became clear the first time he walked around Kilnsworth Creek with both her and Quentin, instead of just Quentin. The major difference between the two of them seemed to be how much more effortlessly social Jane was than her father, and most of the townsfolk they ran into were happy to chat with her. She'd been half-adopted by the town as a whole, it seemed.

So Eliot wasn't as sure as Quentin was that Jane might end up leaving for good some day. She had clear roots in the town and a deep interest in the smallest of gossipy details.

They had another week until the final festival day of Umbermoon and Eliot planned to make the most of each day. He'd needed a break, honestly. He wouldn't go so far as to say that Mike had done him a favor, but he was feeling more energized and perceptive by the day. Whatever else had happened with Mike, it was certainly true that Eliot must have missed some big signs of unhappiness, for it all to go as far as Mike had taken it.

"It would be nice," he explained to Quentin one afternoon, in Julia and Penny's bookstore. "-if I could pin all the blame on him. But it isn't that straightforward. I guess it never is."

Quentin nodded. "My family here… you won't hear them saying too many good things about Jane's mom, but that breakup wasn't one-sided either. I'm not the easiest person to love." Quentin smiled at him, and it was somehow charming and sad at the same time. "Even with the teas that Fen found for me, I just get sad sometimes. My brain goes to war against itself. It happened on Earth, too, but it was worse there because-" Quentin waved a hand in a tight, frenetic motion. "More people, more noise, more everything. Fillory doesn't have millions of people crammed into one city, so it's easier to think."

Quentin was sitting on the table in front of Eliot, instead of properly in a chair, so it was easy to scootch his own chair closer, tuck himself between Quentin's legs, and give him a hug. Quentin seemed slightly startled at first but settled into Eliot's arms quickly enough.

"Not in front of the books," came Penny's annoyed voice as he strolled into the room. Eliot flipped him off, which made him laugh. "You have two whole houses to be all moony-eyed in… why do you have to do it here, man?

"To piss you off," Quentin answered, cheerfully, but he also pulled out of the hug. "Did Julia finish the mirror yet?"

"She's a fucking goddess at magic but not quite _that_ good," Penny said. "Give a girl some time while she's breaking the laws of the universe."

"Once she gets it working, we'll all save a shit-ton on rabbit bills," Quentin said, and even though he'd pulled back from the hug, his legs were warm on either side of Eliot's body, which almost distracted him from-

"The bunnies get paid?"

Penny rolled his eyes. "Of fucking _course_. It's a job, isn't? If I were the one popping between worlds with messages — not an offer, I am never fucking going back to Earth — I'd demand fair compensation too."

"What do you pay them?" Eliot asked, genuinely fascinated, and then he turned toward Quentin as he realized- "Oh, I've been sticking you with the bill this whole time. Shit. I promise, I _can_ pay my own way."

"They mostly get paid in, um, food," Quentin explained. "You've seen how most goods and services are bartered around here. Even Penny mostly gets paid food and cloth, and he works for Whitespire. If you want, I can let everyone know you want to trade, too, but-" Quentin hesitated a moment, then hurried through the rest of the sentence. "-I kinda like that I've been treating you, honestly. New York has a lot more to offer than Kilnsworth, after all."

"Different things," Eliot said. "I don't know if I'd say 'more', not really."

"Ugh, guys, again?" Penny threw up his hands and stalked back out of the room. Eliot could hear him saying, more distantly, "Two whole houses!"

"You really aren't feeling bored yet?" Quentin asked, and there was a tremor of uncertainty in his voice. "I've been to New York and it always had… a lot going on."

"Kilnsworth has tons of shit going on," Eliot pointed out gaily, but he stroked Quentin's arm and added, more seriously, "When I was a teenager, freshly escaped from prison of farm life, I would have died rather than volunteer to spend a week in a town like this. Even with the magic. But… it wasn't really the farms or the lack of clubs that fucked with me. It was the small minds of my family and the other people in the town. It was the constant fear. And this town… Fillory… it doesn't have any of that."

He paused a moment, impulsively brushed a kiss against Quentin's cheekbone. Quentin blinked in surprise, and Eliot almost thought he could feel Quentin's eyelashes flutter against his skin, they were that close. Eliot trailed his mouth along Quentin's face in a flurry of tiny kisses.

"Well, uh. Even before- before the democratic petition, the monarchs of Fillory used to- to be allowed two spouses each, if they wanted," Quentin said, his words stumbling over each other more than usual. Eliot happily took the blame for it as he kissed the soft skin right under Quentin's jaw. They really did need to stop but… maybe a few more kisses.

**New York City, Earth**

Margo smoothed the red silk over her hips, knocked on Fen's door. They'd talked at lunch about this and Fen was ready to do more than exchange a few kisses, but Margo wanted to make an impact. It had been quite a while since she'd slept with a virgin and Margo was a big believer in starting as she meant to go on.

"Oh, goodness," Fen breathed as she opened up the door. "By Umber's hairy- you look beautiful, Margo."

"I do," Margo agreed happily. She looked over Fen — she was wearing the one nice dress that Margo had talked her into, the one Margo would soon be getting her out of again, and she looked absolutely lovely. Margo slung her arm around Fen's shoulders, pulling her out of Eliot's room and towards Margo's. "You look like a dream."

"You picked this out, so I suppose it's not surprising that you like it," Fen noted, but she was smiling. "Are your- is that dress see-through?"

"Just a little," Margo trilled. She pushed open the door to her own suite and gave Fen a moment to look over her re-decoration before she tugged her inside.

There was a small dessert selection set up in her breakfast nook and she'd adjusted the enchantment on the window to show a sweeping view of the waterfalls of the Weeping Wall in Hawaii.

" _That_ is a view," Fen said in admiration as she slid into one of the chairs. "And is this more chocolate?"

"We need to find your favorite," Margo said, picking up a dark chocolate truffle with raspberry filling. "This is mine."

She held it out towards Fen, who ducked her head down a little nervously but ate it from Margo's fingers, blushing. Margo didn't even need to hear her say she loved it; it was all over her face.

After some more experimentation, they discovered that _Fen's_ favorite was milk chocolate and walnut.

"I don't think Fillory has walnuts either," Fen said, despairingly. "We've got a tree that looks like your walnut trees here but I've had nuts from them and they don't taste the same at all." Then she grinned at Margo. "I guess I have an excuse to come back, if I need one."

"Mmm, do you need one?" Margo asked. She felt pleasantly satisfied by the sweets and more than ready to move on to the next portion of the night. "I can give you all kinds of reasons."

Fen bit at her lip, staring a little at Margo's mouth. She leaned forward, over the table, and kissed Margo fiercely. She still tasted of chocolate.

"I couldn't think of anything clever to say," Fen admitted after she broke off the kiss. "And I really wanted to kiss you some more."

Margo had had a plan for tonight, to go slow and easy, but if Fen decided to throw all that out the window, she really didn't mind. So she pulled Fen into another kiss, and it really _was_ nice to kiss a girl again. Not that Josh had been a bad kisser but he didn't shave as much as Margo would have preferred. And Fen's mouth was plush and soft and sweet.

"Let's get you out of this pretty dress," Margo said, tugging at the neckline. Fen was more than happy to obey, yanking her dress up and over without a moment's hesitation. Eager. Not that Margo minded.

Fen had wrinkled her nose up at all the bras that Margo had shown her, so she still wore her Fillorian shift under her dress, her nipples making tiny bumps in the fabric. Margo could work with that for right now. She pushed Fen backwards towards her bed.

One thing she had always envied El was his upper body strength. He would have been able to carry Fen like a feather. Margo had to settle for being persuasive and strategic instead of using brute force.

"Are you gonna take off your dress too?" Fen asked, a flush high on her cheeks. Margo thought about it but shook her head.

"Not yet," she said, decisively. "We're focusing on you first."

She'd been somewhat surprised when Fen had confessed that her on-and-off romance had never involved more than kissing and light petting. Virginity, as a concept, didn't really do much for Margo one way or the other, frankly. But it did mean she wanted to make sure Fen had an especially good time. Firsts only happened once.

Margo kissed Fen's hand — callused along the fingertips. From holding a pen? Or did they use something like _quills_ in Fillory. The book hadn't said. Fen's eyes were very wide, staring fixedly at Margo's mouth.

Well, if she liked watching _that…_

Margo took two of Fen's fingers inside her mouth, slipped her tongue along the slit, mimicking what she planned on doing later. Fen might not be getting the full picture, but she was getting enough of it that her breathing changed, got harsher.

She kissed the center of Fen's palm next, then the thin skin of her wrist, right over her quickening pulse. "I am extremely talented with my mouth and fingers," Margo promised Fen, as she laid Fen's arm down against the bed and kissed up along to her elbow. "And I never leave anyone less than fucking thrilled and grateful."

A soft 'Mmm' was all Fen managed at first. Then, she swallowed hard and said, "I want you to be- to be thrilled too. Tell me how?"

Margo smirked at her, pressed the curve of her mouth against the surprisingly firm muscles of her upper arm. "Oh, don't worry about that. I'm long past the age when I let that kind of bullshit slide. I'm just as demanding as I am generous. I promise."

"Okay," Fen agreed, faintly. Though that part might be because of Margo palming her breast through her shift. Fen's nipples hardened further under Margo's teasing fingers, but she didn't stay long, shifting over Fen's body so she could give her left hand the same treatment as the right.

Fen didn't have particularly long fingers, but they were strong. They'd feel wonderful inside Margo's cunt. Margo kissed Fen's fingertips, sucked them into her mouth and sucked until it got a little messy. Fen couldn't keep her eyes off Margo, and attention and admiration were always the best aphrodisiacs.

She kissed her way up Fen's arms, bite lightly to test Fen's reaction: a startled hiss but nothing more than that. Margo licked it better anyway, returned to Fen's face to shower her with kisses.

"You wanna return the favor?" she asked, raising an eyebrow in challenge. At Fen's enthusiastic nod, Margo lay down on the bed, lifted her hand like a spoiled maiden in a cheesy romance and said, "Go ahead, then. Impress me."

First, Fen pressed their mouths together. Margo let Fen take the lead, only parting her lips when Fen's tongue pushed against the seam. She let herself melt against the bed and enjoyed Fen's determined attentions.

"I've seen a lot of beautiful people since I came here," Fen said, barely a breath against Margo's skin. "But you're- you're the most lovely by far."

Margo always enjoyed flattery, especially when it was so painfully sincere, so she took it as her due, tilting her head back against the pillows so that Fen could kiss her neck.

She did. Tender and soft, wet and warm. Margo pet at Fen's hair, enjoyed feeling adored. "What's my prettiest feature for you?" Margo wondered out loud. "My mouth? My hair? Or something more crass. You like my ass, Fen? My breasts?"

"Everything," Fen said, to the curve of Margo's jaw as she kissed it. Then, more quietly, "Your eyes. That was the first thing I noticed."

"That's sweet," Margo said, and if there was a little edge of laughter in her voice, Fen didn't seem to mind.

Fen didn't respond to that, seemed intent on her task of slowly kissing every inch of Margo's neck. Margo pressed her hips up, twined a leg around Fen's back when she couldn't get close enough. Fen's mouth was moving lower, kissing her chest until she bumped against the neckline of Margo's dress. Her fingers plucked at the fabric and she glanced up, meeting Margo's gaze.

"You wanna take my dress off, huh?" Margo teased. The hem was riding up pretty high on her thighs now. It wouldn't be too hard for her to shimmy and tug and slid right out of it. Except she kinda wanted to make Fen work for it. "Not yet. You can kiss my nipples if you want, but the dress stays on."

Fen let out an annoyed huff of breath, then lowered her hands to Margo's dress. "I can touch like you did, too, right?"

"I'll get pissed if you don't," Margo said, with a pout. Fen's first clumsy strokes across her nipples weren't much to write home about, but she kept glancing up at Margo's face, trying again. Since she seemed inclined towards investigation, Margo didn't give her any hints on purpose, just relaxed and let her body do the talking.

Soon enough, Fen was tugging at her through the fabric, bending down and licking at it until the dress and bra were damp. She twisted a nipple — half by accident, it looked like — but her eyes narrowed thoughtfully at Margo's gasp. She did it again and Margo bit back a moan, turned it into a low hum.

"You look delicate," Fen said, and there was a steady pressure now on Margo's nipples that went straight down to her pussy and made her ache. "But you aren't at all, are you?"

Margo arched up against Fen's hands, into the sweet mix of pleasure-pain. "Not even a little," she confirmed. She sighed in disappointment when Fen let go, but then Fen dipped her head down, caught Margo's nipple between her teeth. The feeling was dulled by the layers of fabric. She'd have to get Fen to do it again once they were naked.

Fen's mouth closed around her nipple, sucking hard, and Margo cupped the back of her head, feeling almost tender already. She arched her hips up against Fen's body again, the pressure nowhere near enough.

"Let's get your shift off," Margo said, plucking at the fabric. "Show me yours and I'll show you mine."

That got an immediate response — Fen sat back in the cradle of Margo's hips, tugged and wiggled and yanked her shift over her head. Then she was reaching down to grab at Margo's dress too and, well, she had made a deal, so Margo didn't resist when Fen pulled at her dress. Though she didn't exactly help, either.

Skin-to-skin — or almost, as Margo was still in her panties and bra — felt divine. Fen's skin was far too silky for her beauty regimen — or lack thereof — but it was hard to be anything but grateful about it when her hands were gliding over it. Her areola were dark and large, her nipples tight and hard when Margo tugged her down to kiss at her breasts.

Fen's breasts sagged more than Margo might have expected in someone her own age but- ah, she didn't wear bras. It was an intriguing difference and Margo explored it with her fingers and her mouth. Fen's hair was dark and thick at the curves of her armpits and covering her mound and all along her legs, but soft against Margo's fingers.

Fen wasn't shy about touching Margo either, running her hands along every inch of exposed skin. The touching was… Margo adjusted her plans again. But more touching was definitely good.

"You smell like El's conditioner," Margo noted, amused. "I should have had you pick out some of your own. It doesn't suit you." Fen needed a lighter scent, maybe even floral, cliche as it might be. She ruffled Fen's hair. "Does Fillory have cautionary tales about innocent girls getting corrupted by the big city, or is that an Earth-only theme?"

"We don't," Fen said, lifting her head up from where she'd been licking Margo's belly button. "We don't have any stories like that."

"Good," Margo said, and she reached behind herself to release the hooks on her bra, her breasts spilling forward as she let the bra fall off.

Fen nuzzled between them immediately, kissed at the curve. She nipped gently at the skin, glanced up at Margo for approval.

"Not delicate," Margo reminded her.

Her stomach tightened when Fen latched onto a nipple, tugging at it lightly, then closing her lips around to suck. Margo smoothed her hands down Fen's back, murmured some approving words. She imagined that same suction on her clit and shivered.

She was so wet.

Margo slid her hand down, pressed her fingers against her covered mound, just above her clit. She wasn't quite ready to go off, but she could get there pretty damn fast.

Fen pulled back and Margo hissed, wanting Fen's mouth back where it belonged. Fen licked at Margo's nipple, blew a cool stream of air across it that made Margo's hips buck. She kissed, softly, then she turned her head and pressed her mouth against Margo's other breast, humming slightly.

When she didn't start playing with Margo's nipple, Margo put her other hand back in Fen's hair, to get her to tilt her head far enough to see her eyes. Fen shook off her touch with a laugh.

"Surely, you can't want such rough treatment here, too?" Fen asked, a roguish light in her eyes. "A softer touch is warranted."

She framed Margo's breast with her hands, licked over it with tiny, soft kisses that barely felt like more than air, that almost tickled.

It was frustrating as fuck.

Margo couldn't help it, took matters into her own hands, pinching the nipple of the breast Fen had abandoned and pressing up against Fen's thigh, her damp panties rubbing against Fen's skin.

"So hard on yourself," Fen commented, with another too gentle tease of a kiss.

Margo pushed at Fen's shoulder, toppled her over so that they were laying side-by-side now, their legs entangled. "You sure you're a virgin?"

"As you explained the concept," Fen said. "But I've touched myself a fair bit. You're impatient."

"This should _not_ be news," Margo said. She put her hand between Fen's legs, stroked at the slickness between her thighs. "Spread your legs, honey."

Fen couldn't really move the leg that was tucked under Margo's, but she did obligingly lean away her other knee, exposing herself more to Margo's curious fingers. Margo slid her fingers into the slit, finding Fen's clit first and rubbing at it until Fen's hips were twitching up against her hand.

No harm in having her orgasm right away, if she could, so Margo urged it along. Her voice was getting higher and more breathy, barely any words between the moans. "That's it. Let go."

Fen bit down so hard on her lower lip when she came that Margo was worried for a moment she'd bitten it clean through.

"You can make as much noise as you want," she scolded gently, pulling her hand up to her mouth and licking. Still not her favorite taste in the world, but there were worse things. "Remember that in a few minutes."

Fen was not, Margo could tell, paying her much attention at all. She was staring up at the ceiling, breath coming in big gulps.

Margo swirled her wet fingers around on Fen's stomach, then started to reach down towards her own clit.

"Wait," Fen said, so she _was_ paying attention after all. "I want to- I wanna do it for you."

"What if I just press up real close and let you feel it?" Margo teased, twisting so that she could thrust her hips against Fen's. Her panties were starting to annoy her now, so she tugged them down, stripped them off and tossed them away while Fen watched.

"Okay," Fen breathed out, resting her hand on the swell of Margo's ass. "You can keep doing that."

"You like that?" Margo rocked her hips again, hard enough that her clit was getting a little relief from the jut of Fen's hip. Probably leaving wet streaks too, now that she was bare. Fen's hand tightened on her ass. "That'll be slow and messy."

"I don't mind," Fen said, so Margo snuggled up closer, and ground her hips against Fen's, forceful and methodical. "It feels… nice."

"I'm sure you can think of a better word than that," Margo said with a scoff. Fen's hip being between her legs meant that one of Margo's thighs was pressed up against Fen's pussy too. Margo reached over — not with her hand but with a touch of magic — pulled Fen's knee back over, closing her legs around Margo's.

If she twisted around a bit, she could- but this was fine for now and she could always show Fen that later. There were still a few days until her Umbermoon festival and afterwards things still might be a bit unsettled, but Margo would have time. There would be a 'later'.

Margo pressed her mouth against Fen's neck, mostly kissing, with a gentle bite thrown in every so often, rocked her hips against Fen's body. It wasn't quite enough. She needed the pressure to be- to be sharper. "Okay," she said, like she was doing Fen a favor. "You can use your hand."

Oh, Fen was eager about it, her fingers up against Margo's cunt in what felt like an instant.

"You feel hotter than when I touch myself," Fen confessed. "It's so wet. Did I get that wet?"

Margo could have said 'yes'; it was certainly true, but Fen's voice was hushed, like she was talking more to herself than to Margo. Her fingertips skated across the slit, then slipped inside, finding Margo's clit, then further down.

Her hips hitched into the touch when Fen slid a finger inside. Margo was soaked enough that the slide was smooth and easy. She'd just wanted a bit of extra push to reach orgasm but… this was good, too.

It's not like she'd told Fen exactly what to do with her hand, after all.

Fen's other hand was still tight on Margo's ass, trying to tug her closer, fingers digging against her skin. Strong enough hands that Margo might come out of this with a few marks. Not that she ever really objected to a little rough handling in the name of good sex.

"Am I doing this the right way?" Fen asked, but it didn't sound like she was fishing for a compliment, more like she was trying to work out a puzzle with herself. "Or should I…"

She pushed another finger in, twisted her hand around and rubbed at Margo's clit with her thumb. Sighed out happily at the sound Margo made.

" _That's_ better, I think," Fen said. Margo murmured a soft agreement, working her hips against Fen's hand. "Are you…?"

"Close," Margo said. "Close."

Fen stroked her inside and out, found the place that made Margo whimper against her neck. Each touch felt deeper and harder and better than before. Margo's breath coming quicker and quicker. She licked at Fen's skin, tasting sweat and sex. She just needed- just a little-

When she came, she bit Fen's shoulder harder than she'd planned.

"Shit, sorry," she said, kissing Fen's skin.

Fen blinked at her, said, "It kinda felt good?"

Margo laughed, nipped at her shoulder again but lighter. "That's great news."

She shifted up and over, straddled Fen's hips. They really were a wet mess. Margo debated using magic to clean up the sheets a bit. Fen's hands were on her hips now, though, and they could always deal with it later.

"You look pretty up there," Fen said, one of her hands lifting to tug at Margo's nipple again — the sore one, of course. Margo bit down on her lip and shuddered. "I want- I don't know. More?"

"We can do that," Margo said, easily. "You want my mouth on you, honey?"

" _Oh_ ," Fen said, sounded profoundly moved by the idea.

"Or I could pull out some toys for us to play with," Margo offered. "I have a shit-ton to fuck around with. Bondage, impact, dildos. Vibes."

"None of those words make any sense to me," Fen said, but she looked tempted anyway. "You- you know the territory here."

"Putting yourself in my hands?" Margo asked, archly, pleased beyond words. She waved a hand, used a little telekinesis to yank over her fun box. It had legs that could fold out so it would be level with the bed, so Margo only needed to lean over a bit to rummage through it.

"There's a lot in there," Fen said, as Margo's arm dipped deeper into the box than it looked like it should be able to go. "Is that- that's what my friend Julia calls a 'Mary Poppins' charm, right? Named after a famous witch on Earth?"

"Is that what your hedge friends call it?" It was actually pretty adorable. "Mary Poppins is a fictional character."

"I'm pretty sure they said she was real," Fen said, nose wrinkling up. "She's a famous witch who teaches children manners."

"We'll investigate later." Margo would just show her the movies. "Right now…"

She'd sifted through and discarded various possibilities, finally deciding on a simple vibe. She cast a quick cleaning charm on it and held it up in front of Fen. She clicked the 'on' button. "This'll feel good, yeah? I've got a few settings I can try."

It felt funny asking for permission to use something as commonplace as a vibrator, but Margo suspected Fen would not have ever seen one before, so it was only polite.

"Oh, yeah, okay," Fen said, once she seemed to realize Margo was waiting for a response. "I think- that seems nice."

Margo slid down the bed, settled herself between Fen's legs. She used her mouth first, kissed the wet slit, pressed her tongue against Fen's clit until she moaned. Then she rested the curving tip of the vibe against Fen's mound, flicked it on.

"Oh!" Fen's hands flew to Margo's hair, grabbed too tightly for a moment before releasing again. "Sorry! I- that's a- I wasn't-"

Margo pulled it away again, licked Fen's quivering skin. " _That_ is a vibrator. You like?"

"Uh-huh," Fen panted, still not back to complete sentences. "That- that was- Ember's hairy rump. That was a _lot_."

Margo grinned. She parted Fen's folds with one hand. She could feel Fen's gaze on her, heated and overwhelmed already. She touched the still head of the vibrator directly against Fen's clit, flicked it on for just a moment. Fen bucked up under her, another breathy moan escaping her.

She played for a while, alternating using her mouth and using the vibe until Fen was twitching helplessly, no more words. Margo slid the vibrator into Fen's cunt, just barely, then sucked at her clit, feeling the buzz moving through Fen's body.

Somewhere in the middle, Fen came again, her moans turning to whimpers. Margo gentled her touch slightly while Fen was coming down from it but didn't stop until Fen tugged at her hair and begged, "please, please".

Fen was a melted puddle of a woman now, legs splayed wide apart like she didn't have enough energy left to close them. It looked good on her.

"I'm gonna finger myself until I come," Margo told her, shifting up again, sitting just under Fen's breasts. She used a little magic to lighten herself, since Fen might not be delicate either, but it still wouldn't be comfortable to have a grown woman sitting on her chest. "You can watch."

Fen chewed on her lip but didn't protest. She looked worn out and worked over, face flushed and lips reddened.

Margo lifted herself up, turned the vibe on and slid it all the way inside her cunt, only the base sticking out. A quick seal of magic would keep it inside without her needing to worry about it.

Fuck, it felt good. Margo used her toys all the time, of course, but it was different — better — with someone else watching. She brushed her thumbs over Fen's nipples, wondered how she'd look with piercings. Too soon for any suggestions like that. But Fen might be up for it in the future.

She leaned over, took another toy out of the box. A dangling chain, with clamps on either end. "Audience participation," she said, which she knew wouldn't serve as much of an explanation, but Fen would understand soon enough.

Margo pinched and twisted her nipple, hissed as she placed the clamp in place, the tight sting of pressure making her clench around the vibrator. Then she did the same for her other nipple, letting the chain lie slack between her breasts.

She grabbed Fen's hand, pressed it against the chain until her fingers closed around it. Then she slid her hand back down to her clit.

Fen's first tug on the chain was hesitant. Then she took in a breath deep enough to lift Margo up, whispered, "Not delicate," just loud enough for Margo to hear, and the next yank sent a sharp twinge of pleasure straight down to Margo's soaked pussy.

It didn't take long for Margo to come a second time.

She collapsed down on Fen's chest. Gracefully, of course. She didn't bother to turn off the vibrator, liked the way it made her shiver against Fen, but she took her fingers away from her clit.

"Should I take these off?" Fen asked, the chain still tangled in her fingers. Margo arched back, feeling the tug.

"Not yet," she said. It still felt good even when she wasn't driving up towards an orgasm. "My nipples aren't really that sensitive, so I need a lot to get something out of them."

"Rough is better," Fen said, thoughtfully, pulling the chain tight for a moment. "I'll remember."

"Give me a few minutes, and we can go again," Margo offered.

Fen nodded, almost shyly. "You can show me more of what's in your box."

"Oh, honey. I would _love_ to."

**Kilnsworth Creek, Fillory**

Jane was getting along with Eliot like a house on fire, of course. _That_ had never been what Quentin had worried about.

And he did still have a quiet lump of doubt in his chest, honestly. That Eliot would come visit, that Eliot was invested in staying part of their lives. But it was fun to watch Eliot get drawn into Jane's stories and games, and Eliot was good at them, and especially at adding a touch of magic to make Jane squeal with delight.

After they dropped Jane off at school, Eliot took Quentin's hand as they walked back to his workshop.

"Are you working on a commission today or a personal project?" Eliot asked, his thumb stroking over the back of Quentin's hand.

"Just some personal projects," Quentin said. Work in Fillory wasn't like how he vaguely remembered it being on Earth. There was no real schedule and even deadlines tended to be a lot looser — Julia and Penny's bookstore was open when it was open, and Quentin's workshop operated much the same way. He went there when he had a job or when he felt the urge to create something. "You asking for a reason?"

"We could go back to your place and fool around for a while," Eliot suggested lightly. They hadn't done much of anything, really, since the night of the goat-wreathing. Just some kissing here and there.

Quentin thought about it. It would already hurt a lot if this attempt at a long-distance relationship didn't work out. Sex wouldn't, on balance, make it hurt any more.

"Yeah," he agreed, with a flush. "We've got a few hours."

Quentin's bed was big enough for two, built back in the days when he'd still thought he and Poppy would make things work, but Eliot was tall enough to make it feel a little crowded. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Quentin perched himself on Eliot's lap and they traded kisses for long enough to lose track of time.

Eliot had slowly been using less and less product in his hair, the longer he'd been in Fillory, and his natural curls were fun to pet through. He'd learned that Eliot didn't really like his hair being pulled — not like Quentin did, anyway — but he liked soft touches.

"I think- um, I think I wanna give you a blow job," Quentin said, probably too abruptly. "But I might be terrible at it. I've never- I kissed a few guys before I left Earth, but nothing since then." Until Eliot, there had been no one since Poppy, though he wasn't sure he wanted to admit that much out loud. He didn't really think Eliot would judge him for it, but it was a little embarrassing how long he'd held out hope. "But I used to watch… uh. I watched a lot of porn about blowjobs, back when I had the internet."

"I would love your mouth on my dick," Eliot said, candidly. He stroked Quentin's back through his shirt. "Don't try to go too fast, though, baby. You don't have to be like a porn star to be good."

Quentin got down between Eliot's legs, blushed involuntarily when Eliot handed him a pillow, but put it under his knees. It was probably a good idea.

He slid his hands up Eliot's pants, feeling the strong muscles of his inner thighs under the fabric. He already knew Eliot's dick was big, so he wasn't fostering any illusions of being able to deep throat or anything like that. Just a… just a straight-forward blowjob. He'd had enough that he could make a reasonable stab at what would feel good for Eliot.

Eliot wasn't hard yet, which was probably a better place to start. Quentin went ahead and unbuttoned his pants, raised his eyebrows when there was nothing else underneath.

"That sure I was gonna blow off work, huh? You think you're pretty convincing," he teased, reaching in and pulling out Eliot's cock. Even soft, it really was fucking huge. Quentin almost wanted — ha, to pull out his own, see exactly how _much_ bigger — weird thought. He brushed it away.

"The evidence is on my side," Eliot said, and his hand was in Quentin's hair. "Here we are."

"Here we are," Quentin echoed. He leaned forward, kissed the head of Eliot's dick. He hadn't been exaggerating when he'd told Eliot he watched a lot of this kind of porn. He'd like watching mouths stretching around thick cocks. Suspected he'd known even from the beginning that he was more drawn to being the one on his knees, even if he'd never gotten the chance to put it into practice.

Until now, anyway.

He parted his lips, licked at the slit. He'd tasted his own come before, but it was better when it was someone else's. Or maybe it was mostly just Eliot. Made sense he'd make sure he'd taste good.

Quentin pulled off so that he could lick his palm, wrap his hand around the shaft and jerk it a few times. Eliot was getting hard now and he really was ridiculously, porn-star big.

Eliot tugged at his hair. Quentin glanced up, to see if he was doing something wrong, but Eliot didn't look annoyed or anything. He just wanted to yank at Quentin's hair, then. That was fine. Better than fine, even.

Quentin leaned back down, held Eliot's dick against his stomach so Quentin could lick down the shaft. When he pressed his mouth the right way, he thought maybe he could feel Eliot's pulse.

When he reached the base, he nosed at Eliot's balls a moment before licking them, too, sucking them in his mouth but being gentle about it. He leaned down even more, but Eliot wasn't quite tilted the right way to reach any further, so Quentin gave up on that idea, kissed his way back up Eliot's cock.

It wasn't quite like he'd thought it would be, in his teenage fantasies, but real was better, even if it wasn't as perfect. Not something Quentin had understood when he was younger, not when it came to worlds or to people.

He wrapped his fingers around the base of Eliot's dick, slid the head inside his mouth. It was harder than he'd thought it would be, to remember to keep his teeth away and to not care about the stretch in his jaw. But it felt- fuck, kind of amazing, honestly. Warm and silky under his tongue, hard enough now to make him feel soft and malleable in response, to want to melt around Eliot's dick and never leave.

Eliot's hand in his hair tugged slightly and Quentin went with it, let Eliot pull him off.

"Everything okay?" Quentin asked. His tongue felt thick and clumsy in his mouth, like it didn't know what to do without Eliot's cock there.

"I was gonna ask you that," Eliot said, petting softly through Quentin's hair. "You were making some interesting noises, Q."

Quentin's cheeks warmed. "I was?"

"Mmhmm. Wanted to make sure they were good noises." Eliot traced the shell of Quentin's ear and he was so gentle about it that it made something inside Quentin ache. "You wanna suck me some more?"

Quentin nodded eagerly, not even caring that it made Eliot laugh. It was a good laugh, anyway. "You can pull my hair," Quentin said, and his face was so hot that he probably looked sunburnt. "If you want. It feels good."

"Note taken," Eliot said, sounding so amused that Quentin had to press his cheek against Eliot's dick just to have an excuse not to meet his eyes anymore. Eliot's fingers _did_ anchor more firmly in his hair though.

Quentin licked at the head of Eliot's dick, like saying hello, then took it in his mouth again. His own cock was definitely hard now, between Eliot's teasing and the feeling of Eliot's dick inside him, but he wasn't in danger of coming anytime soon. He could take his time.

He bobbed his head down until Eliot brushed the back of his throat. His gag reflex tried to act up, so he backed off, just sucked steadily while his hands did more of the work, one hand stroking up and down the shaft while the other cupped and caressed Eliot's balls.

It was overwhelming, but in the best way. He felt surrounded by Eliot, inside and out, cradled between his legs, his hair tugging at Quentin's hair. The taste in his mouth was changing, getting sharper, saltier.

Quentin sucked harder, licked desperately at what he could reach. He wasn't sure when his eyes had closed, but it let him focus on- on the feeling, on the taste, on Eliot's words as he called Quentin 'baby' and told him how good it felt.

He drifted a little, sinking into the repetition of it, not minding the ache building in his jaw. Then he felt Eliot patting at his cheek. Blearily, Quentin blinked his eyes open again and did his best to focus on Eliot's face.

"You wanna jerk me off the rest of the way or do you wanna have me come in your mouth?" Eliot asked, pressing his fingers against Quentin's cheek so hard that he had to be feeling his own dick inside. Quentin didn't want to pull off, so he just kinda hummed in response and let his eyes slip shut again.

Eliot laughed, rich and warm, still petting at Quentin's cheek. It made something hot bloom in Quentin's chest — pride, he thought, he was proud of making Eliot feel so good.

"Okay, baby, go ahead and swallow me down," Eliot said. And it wasn't- it wasn't long before his cock was twitching and spurting into Quentin's mouth.

It didn't taste all that great but Quentin honestly kinda loved it anyway. He kept Eliot in his mouth as his dick softened, sighed in protest when Eliot _did_ finally pull away, and rested his cheek against Eliot's thigh.

"Everything you hoped it would be?" Eliot asked, and his grip on Quentin's hair was light now, gently tilting his head back so he would be looking up at Eliot's face. He rubbed at the corner of Quentin's mouth, where a dribble of semen had escaped.

"Better," Quentin said, and he didn't even think he blushed when he said it. "Kinda wanna do it again."

"Right now?" Eliot grinned. "I don't think I can manage that, Q." He stroked at the edge of Quentin's jaw. "You sore?"

"Yeah," Quentin said, with satisfaction. It was a good kind of sore, though. "Hard, too, if you wanna do something about that."

"Anything you want," Eliot said, and Quentin frowned at him.

"What if I wanted something you hate?" Quentin said — well, fussed, really, to be honest. "You shouldn't just say _anything_."

"You're very bossy for a boy on his knees," Eliot's grin turned sly. "Must be that daddy energy of yours."

"Oh, don't you-" Quentin couldn't stop himself from laughing, though he did manage a glare at the same time. "You're a _dick_ and I have no idea why I like you so much."

Eliot treated that with the seriousness it probably deserved, which was to say, not at all.

"I can blow you or jerk you off," he said, brushing his fingers over Quentin's mouth. "Anything more complicated would require more prep time anyway."

Quentin reached up, pressed his fingers against Eliot's mouth. "It's been a long time since- I can't, uh. Can't give myself a blow job."

"Most of us can't," Eliot agreed cheerfully. "I wanna look at you while I do it. Let's get you spread out on the bed, okay?"

He would have been fine just stripping himself off, but Eliot wanted to do it, so it took a bit longer. Eliot was- was big on giving compliments, seemed to delight at making Quentin blush. It was a little ridiculous, honestly. Quentin wasn't ugly or anything like that, but he certainly didn't look as good as Eliot.

But it was kinda nice to hear anyway, so Quentin didn't object.

Once he was all naked and lying on the bed, Eliot kissed him and jerked him with a spit-slick hand until he was hard enough to ache.

Then Eliot slid down his body, sucked him in, and took his dick into his throat.

"Fuck, El, you don't mess around," Quentin said. He pet at Eliot's shoulder, pretty sure he'd accidentally yank too hard if he grabbed at Eliot's hair. " _Jesus_."

Eliot laughed around his cock, which was- fuck, that was a lot. Quentin concentrated on not coming right away, tried to think of unsexy things, but his head was- was too full of Eliot to focus on anything else.

"I'm gonna- uh, _fuck_. Eliot, I'm gonna come a lot sooner than- if you-"

Eliot's mouth gentled, which was good but also the worst thing ever. Quentin did his best not to look at Eliot's lips stretched around his dick. Eliot was holding Quentin's hips down, and he couldn't move at all, really, which was- was hotter, maybe, than Quentin had realized it would be.

He leaned his head back and stared up at his ceiling. It was a good ceiling. He'd helped build it himself-

Eliot was fondling his balls, stroking lower, nudging a finger against his asshole. He didn't push inside, though, just rubbed his finger over the twitching muscle a few times and then back up to pet at Quentin's inner thighs and his balls.

"You can fuck me later," Quentin's mouth said, without his brain's permission. "When we have time for complicated."

A happy little hum from Eliot made Quentin's hips try to jerk, stopped again by- but wait, Eliot's hands had been-

 _Magic_. Of course. If anyone could manage to have more than two hands during sex, it would be a magician.

Maybe Eliot could- could teach him whatever spell he was using right now. Eliot had actually been to school for magic. He must know all kinds of tricks, Quentin should have been-

"I'm really- uh. I'm gonna-" Quentin warned, voice unsteady. Eliot pulled off him with a wet 'pop', smiled up at him as he jerked his dick.

It was kinda unfairly sexy.

If he told Eliot that, he would probably laugh again. Not that Quentin could put together any words right now anyway.

Eliot's hand was big and warm. Wrapped tight around Quentin's dick. Twisting and stroking upward until Quentin came all over his stomach. He kept hold of Quentin's cock as it jerked and twitch, rubbed his thumb over the head as Quentin gasped.

"You look good like this," Eliot said, touching the mess on Quentin's stomach with his other hand, rubbing it into his skin. Quentin wrinkled his nose but didn't object. He'd clean himself off before he put his clothes back on.

They had a few hours yet.

Quentin grabbed Eliot's hand, held it even though it was wet with come and kind of objectively gross.

It still felt nice.

**New York City, Earth**

Fen kissed Margo 'good morning', resisted the urge to try to tug her clothes off again. They had plans later; nudity could happen then. She got dressed for the day in the most sensible Earth outfit that Margo had purchased for her, something she'd laughingly called 'farmer chic'. Fen couldn't quite imagine any of her actual friends who were farmers wearing it — the pockets were shallow and the material not study enough — but it was practical enough for Earth.

"I think I've found a solution," Margo had whispered to her last night, before they tumbled into sleep. "I can come to Fillory with you. For a day or two."

Fen hadn't been able to ask any questions, Margo falling back to sleep mere seconds later. She asked now, though, all dressed for the day with Margo still sleepily tangled in the sheets.

"You'll come for Umbermoon?" Fen asked. "You can meet my family. If you like."

"I have… a couple of things to double-check but… yeah. I can tear myself away for two days," Margo confirmed. Fen beamed at her happily.

"Do you want me to run downstairs, get breakfast for us both?"

At Margo's nod, she did just that.

She ran into Kady and Alice, blushed when Kady drawled out, " _Someone_ had a very good night."

She wasn't really sure she could talk about _that_ without flushing so hard that she'd die of it, so Fen just said, earnestly, "Thank you for showing me more of New York."

"We didn't really do anything," Alice said.

"Of course you did," Fen said with a smile. "You made me feel welcome. It meant a lot."

Impulsively, she leaned forward and hugged them, one arm around each of their shoulders. They both stiffened up, but then relaxed into the hug, Alice going so far as to pat Fen gingerly on the back.

Once she had a tray full of two breakfasts, she ran into Todd — almost literally.

"Where's the fire!" But he didn't sound alarmed, so Fen guessed this was more Earth slang.

"Margo's room," she said cheerily and Todd raised his eyebrows up high. "What's the notebook for?"

Todd looked down at the little pad like he hadn't realized he was holding it. "Homework. Sort of."

It didn't look like any kind of housework that Fen recognized, but they did things differently on Earth. It probably made sense.

When she got back upstairs, Margo had thrown a funny-looking silky robe over herself, with distracting flashes of bare leg peeking out from the folds.

They settled the trays between them and Margo explained while they ate — she was going to give Todd the job of temporarily hosting while she was gone. The ultimate test of his abilities, apparently.

"He must be pleased his apprenticeship is nearly over," Fen said, and Margo laughed.

Once the food was eaten, Fen let herself be tackled back into the bed. Margo's robes hung open at the front as she leaned over Fen, the inner curves of her breasts calling out to be touched. And, well, who was Fen to argue with that?

Margo taught Fen all the finer details of 'eating out' that morning and it was a very pleasant lesson, indeed.

**Kilnsworth Creek, Fillory**

Down the lane, take a right, and she should be playing near the creek. Eliot repeated the directions to himself silently as he went to fetch Jane. Quentin was busy being elbows-deep in some kind of bread situation that had given Eliot childhood flashbacks that were, for once, not awful.

His mom had started to teach him to cook, when he was around Jane's age. It had actually been pretty fun, until his father had decided it was all too unmanly.

Eliot came around the bend and- oh.

There Jane was, alright. With her face pressed against her knees while she wept like her heart was cracking in two.

Eliot took a few steps back, started whistling and walking very loudly.

When he came back into view of Jane, she was on her feet and scrubbing the tears from her cheeks, her nose red and snotty.

"Oh, hey New York guy," Jane said, with a pretty fair approximation of her normal bubbliness. "Where's dad?"

"Making dinner," Eliot said. He would have hated if a strange adult had asked him about his feelings, back when he was Jane's age, so he just added, "There's a bread thing but it might be for tomorrow."

Jane nodded. Then she asked, her voice higher-pitched than normal, "Do you- do you like Kilnsworth Creek?" He opened his mouth to answer but then she barrelled onward, "Because- okay. Because my dad. My dad really loves it here, you know? So do you? Like Kilnsworth?"

"I do," Eliot said, solemnly.

Jane rubbed at her face. Eliot tugged a handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it over. She blew her nose, loudly. Sniffled.

"He's never invited anyone new over to our house before," Jane said, with a bit of a suspicious look. "He's never- never cooked dinner for someone who wasn't… so, I just really. I hope that you like Kilnsworth."

"I like it a lot," Eliot said. And, to his own surprise, he did. He'd probably hate it if he were trapped here forever, no Bambi and no technology, but as a place to visit… he was growing downright fond.

"Okay," Jane said, almost soundlessly. It would do her no favors for him to make her subtext text here, so he just took back his handkerchief when she offered it, did a quick charm to clean it. Jane watched him, her eyes brightening for real a little. "When will I know if I have magic? Dad says he doesn't have- um. A large enough 'sample size' to say for sure."

"It's usually a puberty thing," Eliot said. He offered her his hand but wasn't offended when she ignored it. "At least, if your magic is physical in nature, like mine or your dad's. Do you know what kind of magic your mom does?"

Jane blinked back more tears which… kinda confirmed she'd been crying about her mom, but said, "Not the same as dad's? She can't do floaty stuff. I think she can talk to animals, though. Like, ones that can't normally talk to people."

"Sounds like a Nature kid," Eliot said, and it was a relief to get over the first mom-related hurdle with Jane. If he was really gonna date Quentin, the last thing he wanted to do was make Jane feel like she couldn't talk about her mom around him. "That's usually a puberty thing, too. Mental magic — like your aunt and uncle have — usually shows up earlier. Sometimes even before the kid is talking. Something to look out for if they decide to have kids."

Jane shrugged, not showing any particular interest in the idea. Fair enough.

"Can you fly me home?" she asked him, after a moment. And, well, that was an easy enough request to fulfill.

**New York City, Earth**

Margo was pretty sure that Fen had noticed how jittery she had been all day. She'd been getting some odd looks. Margo tried to pretend it was all nerves over entrusting Todd with the care of the retreat for the two days she'd be in Fillory, but Fen definitely suspected something else was up.

Then, finally, while they were packing, Margo got the alert she'd been waiting for.

She popped over to her email, just to confirm the good news. Then she glanced over at Fen, who was currently swearing in Fillorian as she tried to stuff her new clothes into the bag she'd brought from Fillory.

Margo snuck up behind her, ambushed her with a kiss to the back of her neck and a tight hug. "You, honey, are going to be a published author."

Fen froze, looked back over her shoulder at Margo, eyes wide. "You heard back from your friend?"

"They want you to sign a contract after the holidays," Margo said. Which gave them plenty of time to make up a fake Earth identity for Fen. "Best girlfriend ever, right?"

Fen kissed her, which was really enough of an answer all on its own.

So, they rolled around in bed for a while — always fun — then got back to packing. On Margo's advice, Fen hadn't mentioned anything about bringing Margo along. She'd been enthusiastically receptive to 'the look on El's face will be hilarious' as an argument. Had confessed that her brother had actually suggested she keep an open heart while on vacation, so she was pretty sure he'd be thrilled she was bringing someone home, but she didn't mind it being a surprise.

Once they were all packed and the final instructions were given to Todd, they were on their way.

Well, _after_ Fen said her goodbyes to Kady and Alice, which had been kinda sweet, honestly. And Fen having more friends on Earth would just encourage her to visit more often, so Margo was all in favor.

The Neitherlands were… honestly, kind of boring. Sure, the fountains were pretty and all that, but it was all so regulated and watched over by the Librarians. If Margo wanted to fuck around and wander through the worlds, she needed to give them her itinerary, apparently. Fen took care of all of that this time, but it was a bit annoying.

"There are ways around it," Fen explained in a quiet voice — much like Librarians everywhere, the Neitherlands Librarians wanted everyone to keep their voices down. "But it takes magic to find them. You could figure it out, I'm sure, but I'm stuck with the paths. It's not so bad, though. The Librarians are very nice."

They were very _polite_ , Margo would have said, which was not really the same thing.

It was mid-morning when they arrived in Fillory and that was…

In all the ways that the Neitherlands had disappointed her, Fillory did not. It was _just_ how the book had described it.

The large tree they had arrived through towered over them, snow covering the branches and the ground in a shimmering blanket. Margo offered Fen a spare pair of sunglasses and breathed in deeply as she looked around.

Maybe it was the snow, but the world around them was gloriously untouched, and the sky was a shade of bright teal that she didn't think she'd ever seen on Earth. The opium in the air wasn't strong enough to give it a different taste or smell, but she could feel it, just enough to give her a slight sense of euphoria. Yes, this had definitely been the right place to send Eliot to after his heart has been broken.

"It's fucking gorgeous," she told Fen, who grinned at her happily. "Which way do we go from here?"

Fen had warned her there would be some walking involved, so Margo had dressed accordingly. They took their time on their stroll towards Fen's hometown, encountering a talking bird along the way that Fen swore to silence — and who helpfully told them Eliot was currently visiting with Fen's brother, Quentin. Very convenient, really, though Fen had already explained she'd asked her brother to look out for Eliot while he was in Fillory.

It really was lovely here. Margo tucked her hand into Fen's elbow, tilted her head back and watched the clouds roll by. Most things that Earth used industry for were run by magic here, because, even though most humans were not actually magicians, there was an abundance of species who had natural magic gifts. It meant that the sky was blissfully clear of pollution.

Before going to visit Fen's brother, they stopped by her parents' house, where Margo was rather proudly introduced as Fen's new girlfriend.

"We'll come back here later tonight with Quentin and Jane," Fen said as they left. "And you'll get to meet Julia and Penny, too."

Then they were on their way to surprise Eliot and Quentin.

**Kilnsworth Creek, Fillory**

"Sort of like a potluck," Eliot said, and Quentin could see Jane mouthing the word back to herself.

"Pretty close," Quentin agreed, tucking the rolls into the appropriate basket. Fen's parents would supply the meat — a stew that had the last saved bits of the season — Julia and Penny had desserts covered and, this year, Quentin was everything else. "Fen normally does the vegetable dishes, but she's only just getting back today and who knows when, so it didn't seem fair to ask her to cook."

"It'll be nice to meet her in person," Eliot said. He'd talked Quentin into letting him help put the finishing touches on some of the dishes, and he seemed content with the task, though Quentin kept an eye on him for signs of boredom. "Talking through rabbits doesn't really give a full sense of a person's character."

"You'll like her," Quentin said, without hesitation. Slightly more cautiously, he added, "I've been thinking about what you said about coming back with you to meet Margo."

"Oh?" Eliot smiled at him with warm interest.

Before Quentin could answer, Jane broke into the conversation, shrieking, "Dad! I see Aunt Fen!" She hopped away from the window, definitely not noticing the way poor Eliot had rubbed at his ear.

"Sorry," Quentin mouthed at him, getting an amused shrug back. Jane wasn't done, though.

"There's someone with her," she announced loudly, tugging first at Quentin and then at Eliot's arm. "A lady in weird clothes."

Eliot straightened up to his full height, and he and Quentin exchanged a curious look. "Do you think…?"

"Let's find out."

It was.

Eliot crushed his friend Margo with a hug and a cry of "Bambi!" as soon as the door was open, and Quentin and Jane grabbed onto Fen. She'd only been gone for just under two weeks but-

"Your hair is so short," Quentin said, fluffing his hand through it. "And you look- you look happy."

The low-level discontent she'd been carrying around since her last break-up with Rafe looked well and truly gone.

"I can't believe you were willing to leave The Flying Forest unguarded," Eliot said to Margo, distracting Quentin and Fen both. "But it's fu- it's really great to see you."

Margo looked startled a moment, then she glanced down and seemed to notice Jane for the first time. "Todd is watching over everything for us," she said, which made Eliot wrinkle up his nose, but Margo's attention was fixed. "Are you Fen's famous niece, then? Jane?"

"That's me!" Jane said, glowing over being singled out. "I'm here! What'd I do?"

"Margo likes the books," Fen said and-

They kept talking, the three of them, and Quentin took a moment to pull Eliot aside.

"So, the infamous Margo," he said, and it was already clear Jane would adore her. "Looks like we'll be connected in more ways than one."

Eliot yanked him closer, pressed a kiss against against his forehead-

-immediately attracting Fen and Margo's notice.

"Oh! Of course," Fen said, clapping her hands together. " _Quentin_ was the person you wanted wooing advice for? Eliot, you should have said! I could have given much more specific advice!"

"It worked out okay," Quentin said, flushing. "Open hearts, right?"

Margo flashed a look in Eliot's direction that Quentin couldn't read, but apparently Eliot could, because he said, "Bambi, you were right about how beautiful Fillory is. And, great news — Quentin is a nerd who's been away from Earth for over a decade. You have so much sh- stuff to catch him up on."

"A nerd, huh?" Margo said, with an appraising look that made Quentin want to double-check that his fly was zipped up, despite it being years since he'd actually worn pants with zippers. "You have missed a fu- a lot. A lot of nerd stuff."

"You can start to tell me while we get all this together and head over for dinner," Quentin offered.

She did.

And, for the first time ever, Quentin brought a date along with him to the last festival day of Umbermoon. It was a full house, with Penny and Julia, and Fen's parents, and then the five of them. Loud and boisterous and… and very, very merry.

**New York City, Earth**

Fen waved a distracted hand at Todd as she raced through the entrance hall. Margo's mirror call had been important but she hadn't sounded like anyone was hurt or anything like that. Still, Fen had gotten here as quickly as she could. And two months was too long away from Earth and from Margo anyway.

Margo found her halfway down the stairs and launched at her with a hug and a passionate reunion kiss that nearly toppled them down the rest of the way.

"It's out!" Margo told Fen gleefully, after another kiss. Fen… squeaked, honestly. No other word for it. "Selling like fucking gangbusters too."

"Yeah?"

And Fen found herself sitting at Margo's desk, being shown all sorts of things on the internet that she still didn't quite understand but that seemed good.

"They're interested in more of the series as soon as you can get it to them," Margo said, pressing a kiss to Fen's cheek. "You're gonna have a lot of pocket money for your trips here."

"I could always pay you back," Fen said, slyly. Margo gave her a stern look, and Fen laughed. "I know! I know! You don't want it. I'll just have to give you more gifts." And save the rest for Jane.

"You could give me a gift right now," Margo suggested archly, a wiggle of her fingers closing and locking the office door. "It's almost my birthday."

It was a good thing Margo's desk was so study. They put it through a lot that afternoon.

Afterwards, Margo tangled her fingers through Fen's hair thoughtfully. "It's grown out a lot."

"I've been thinking of getting it cut again," Fen admitted. "Maybe go even shorter. Do the- uh, what do you call it? The undercut thing. You think it would look good?"

"You'd look good with any haircut," Margo said fondly. Margo's own hair was a tumbled mess of curls now, especially after the exercise they'd just had. Fen played with the strands as she rested her cheek against Margo's soft breast. Margo's fingers rubbed against the shell of Fen's ear as she continued, "Anything new from Fillory? El's heading out there again in a few days, and you know how he likes to dress for the weather."

"Well," Fen began, but it was difficult to concentrate with Margo all bare and underneath her like this. "How about we talk about Fillory in a couple of hours?"

It didn't take long for Margo to understand what Fen meant.

**20 miles east of Kilnsworth Creek, Fillory**

"I got one!" Jane said excitedly, opening up her hands to show Quentin and Eliot her treasure — a palm-sized green-and-brown frog, who ribbited and then made a sound like a sigh. Eliot kept his mouth carefully shut so that he wouldn't laugh at how exasperated the frog looked.

"I have no quests today," the frog said, in a surprisingly clear and high-pitched voice. "Go and bother some other unsuspecting creature, hmm?"

Jane pursed her lips, indignant, and started with, "Not even a _little_ quest? I can't have a very big one anyway. I'm only ten years old."

As Jane and the frog continued their negotiation, Eliot felt Quentin's hand tap at his elbow. He turned with a smile, "Yes, Q?"

"Just checking in," Quentin said. "We've had a lot of tromping around in the forest the last few days. Still having fun?"

"How could I not be?" Eliot said, gravely. "We're seeking out quests." He smiled and wrapped his hand around the back of Quentin's neck to pull him in for a kiss. "It's the best summer I've had in years."

"Oh, well. Good," Quentin said. His hair was in his face again, so Eliot pushed it back and, this time, remembered to pull the hair tie off his own wrist so he could put it up in a messy bun.

"Hey, hey! Stop being sappy," Jane ordered, getting their attention. She was gently placing the toad back on the ground. "We have a quest. You can be all mushy afterwards."

"What are our marching orders, gracious sir Jane?" Eliot asked, turning to face her but leaving his hands on Quentin. "Are we off to defeat a giant or rescue a young prince?"

"We are going to find the lost treasure of Gethaway," Jane said, putting her hands on her hips. "It's deep in the woods, guarded by a dryad who likes riddles."

"Riddles, huh?" Quentin asked, amused. "We'll have to think of some along the way."

Jane strode off in front of them, her walking stick — or, as she called it, her protective clobbering stick — at the ready. Eliot and Quentin followed behind, holding hands. Eliot hadn't lied; his summer had been great so far, best ever. But he had a feeling that they would keep getting better and better.

"Keep up!" Jane yelled over her shoulder. She was in her element here, all focused attention, though she'd liked New York well enough, too, on her brief trip last spring.

Still, "She loves Fillory, you know," he told Quentin. "Not that I blame her. There's a lot here to love."

Quentin flashed him a happy smile.

Yes, there was more here to love than Eliot could have ever guessed existed. New York and Margo would always be a home for him but this- this was becoming one, too.

Maybe Eliot could have found healing somewhere else but he was... he was real fucking glad he'd found it in Fillory.

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone is interested in the multiple pages of backstory that I wrote out for these versions of the characters, let me know and I will be happy to type it up and add it as an addendum.


End file.
